Ginny Potter and Hell's Portal
by Sarcasma
Summary: Harry's disappeared and no one can figure out where to. When the Ministry seems to be pushing Ron to give up on looking and Ginny suspects foul play, she takes it upon herself to figure out where her husband is. H/G
1. Missing in Action

_**Missing in Action**_

"Come on, Rachel!" Jeremy hissed. "Come on!"

Rachel was not far behind, a stich in her side as she looked back. No one could be seen coming from the compound, but that didn't mean they weren't on their way. Her feet already hurt and her shoes were wearing through, covered in dust as she looked forward realizing how much desert was in front of them. Jeremy grabbed her hand and pulled her as fast as he could, dragging her along.

They couldn't apparate—not even if they got far enough out. Neither of them had learned and the daunting image of the barren landscape in front of them terrified her. What was behind them terrified her more. Especially as a siren rang loudly, echoing past them.

"Stay with me," Jeremy said. "We can make it."

They did this for an hour. "Look!" she said, pointing to an oasis maybe a hundred yards in front of them.

Jeremy and Rachel stopped, looked at each other, and he smiled wide, the joy of seeing their salvation showing in each laugh line that creased around his eyes. "I told you," he said. "I told you we could do it."

He tugged again and she followed. The oasis came into focus. Fifty yards, forty, twenty. They bolted into a run again when they hit a barrier, stuck to its edge. "Jeremy?" Rachel's terrified voice trembled.

"Push through!" he shouted at her.

Rachel tried. She struggled as some invisible force held her out, stretching her as she screamed, being lifted up. Jeremy, too, grunted and fought. Another wall of green light built up in front of them, made a blinding flash as it pressed against their struggling forms, and Rachel and Jeremy fell into a limp pile in the hot, desert sand. Eyes open, mouths gapping, and only inches from freedom.

* * *

James, Albus, and Lily were in the garden on their brooms, tossing about a quaffle as Ginny worked on dinner, placing a loaf of bread into the oven. She was behind schedule, but, unsurprisingly, so was Harry. It was a quarter past five and he was late for the seventh day in a row (two of which were supposed to be his days off). Ginny felt her irritation grow as she replayed their argument from the previous night in her mind.

"How about following through around here?" she had said to him. "You have been talking up a holiday to Peru since Christmas. The kids have saved all their pocket money. Al comes to me every day with some place to visit while we're there."

"You don't think I'd rather go on holiday? I can't leave right now," Harry said. "Besides, we aren't cancelling it, we're just postponing a month. They can save a little extra."

"Oh, but I'm sure Ron's holiday to Ireland hasn't been interrupted. Or anyone else in your office for that matter."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry said. "It's part of being head of the department.

Ginny had tried to be patient on these grounds. Her own father had, at times, left family events suddenly, or spent long days at work while she was growing up. But Harry had been head of the department for over a decade now, and she'd noticed over the last year that his habitual overtime was getting worse. Part of her wondered if it was out of necessity or if Harry was letting things take him away lately and her patience was running thin.

"Well, I suppose _I'll_ have to be the one to break it to them tomorrow," she snipped, filling her teacup and heading towards the adjacent door that lead to her home office.

"Ginny," Harry's exasperated voice called from the table.

"I have a deadline for this article that I haven't been able to get to because you've been getting home so late," Ginny said. "Just keep the kids from burning the house down, please."

She struggled to concentrate on the article as she shuffled past brochures and advertisements for Peru that littered her desk. A small window between her office and the living room showed Harry, on the floor laying along one side, propping himself up on an elbow while he played exploding snaps with the kids. Ginny took a deep breath, blowing it out as she tried to concentrate on her notes from the last Quidditch tournament that she was supposed to report on and send to her editor by morning.

"Bed, bed! It's time for bed," Harry announced nearly an hour later.

"Ah, Dad," James said. "It's summer. Just one more game?"

Harry stood, grabbed Lily under her arms and lifted her off the ground as she giggled. "You said that three games ago. Time for bed!" he declared. All three children shuffled down the hall to their bedrooms.

Ginny continued concentrating on the page, quill in hand, as Harry came behind her, putting a hand on each of her shoulders. "I'll try and rearrange some things tomorrow. And if I can't, I'll break it to the kids." He kissed the top of her head and left Ginny to her work. By the time she went to bed at two o'clock he was already asleep, and he was gone when she woke up at seven.

And now six o'clock in the evening had come and gone and Harry was still nowhere to be seen. The later he was, the more certain Ginny became that she could have steamed some vegetables by blowing on them, she was fuming so much.

There was a pop from outside and she expected the kids to start shouting for their father. "Uncle Ron!" Albus shouted gleefully instead. Ginny leaned forward to see outside. They surrounded Ron in the grass as they all landed, Albus grabbing Ron's arm and tugging on him. Ginny smiled as Ron tried to lift him. They were all getting so old, edging every day towards their fortieth birthdays: her, Ron, Hermione… Harry. She put a pot of water on to boil and opened the door. James was now hanging off Ron's other side and Lily had wrapped herself around his leg—something that worked much better three or four years ago when she was smaller.

"Oi!" Ginny shouted at them and they all turned their heads. "Let him breathe, you lot."

Ron gave her a half-hearted smile as the boys got off of him. "In fact, go in and wash up for dinner. James! Don't leave your broom out! How many times to I have to tell you?"

James ran back to grab his broom and the other two passed her, taking their own brooms back to their rooms. "Are you staying for dinner, Uncle Ron?" Lily asked.

"I'll be around for a bit," was all he said and the kids ran off.

Ginny took off her apron and grabbed Ron a cup. "Have a seat. I'm assuming Harry isn't far behind?"

Ron didn't move. "Ginny," he said. There was a strain in his voice. "We need to talk."

Ginny stopped dead, turning to him. She hadn't noticed before, but his eyes were rimmed with red. "Is he at Mungo's?" Ginny asked breathlessly. Then before he could answer, "I can take the kids to Mum and be there—"

"No," Ron said. "Ginny," he said her name again, stalling. "Ginny, something happened and we don't know where Harry is."

Ginny felt her heart burst. Her stomach dropped like the glass in her hand, which shattered on the kitchen tile. Ron was by her in an instant, arms around her, holding her up as her legs failed. "No, no," she said quietly, clamping a hand to her mouth, aware of her children being just a room away. "No," she said again.

"Shhh," Ron hushed her. "It will be okay," he said, lowering Ginny into a chair.

"What happened?" she asked, holding his arms, her eyes darting between his.

"There was a portal. It was taking in everything and he—," Ron paused here. "There were a couple civilians, but he pushed them out. Pushed me out. He couldn't get free of it in time."

"And you don't know where it took him?"

"Mum?" James stood in the doorway, looking between Ginny and Ron. "What's wrong?"

Ginny closed her eyes to blink out the developing tears, swallowed, and then stood, walking over to James. He was getting tall. She didn't have to bend down to be at eye level with him. "James," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I need you to go to your room and pack a bag with some clothes. Tell Al to do the same and help your sister, okay?"

James looked over her shoulder at Ron, then back to Ginny and nodded.

Ginny walked over to the stove, turning off the burners, wanting to throw the contents in the pots and pans across the kitchen in frustration. "Can you help us get to the Burrow?" Ginny asked.

"Of course," Ron said.

* * *

Molly rocked a sobbing Lily in her lap while Albus quietly wiped at his nose. Ron broke the news to everyone as gently as he could. Arthur stood behind Ginny, rubbing her back as she played with Al's hair. She looked over to James whose expression was distant, stunned. He was only fifteen, yet in the moment he looked older to her.

"But," James said, "he could come back, right?"

Ron looked hesitant to answer this question. "Of course," he still said. "You know I'm going to do everything I can, mate."

"I think what everyone needs right now is a good night sleep," Molly said. "Albus and James, you can have the third floor and Lily, the second."

They all were slow to move and Ginny didn't rush them. She watched each of them head up and away, followed by Molly, feeling a strong urge to change her mind and set up camp right here so they could stay together.

"I did mean it," Ron said to Ginny, pulling her attention back. "I'm going to do everything possible."

"I know," she said. Ginny had been holding back, but now started to freely sob as her brother and dad came around her, wrapping her in their arms and whispering assurances. Molly came back down the stairs after having ushered her grandchildren to bed, shoving the other two out of the way to take their place.

"Harry can handle himself," Molly said. "He'll be back in no time, I'm sure."

Ginny nodded, but couldn't bring herself to tell them. To tell them how horrible she'd been. How impatient and snippy. She'd never felt so sick in her life over anything she'd said, but in that moment, she let her family's hands and words comfort her.

* * *

Almost a month had passed at the Burrow. Ginny woke as the light came through the curtain in her old room. She carefully moved, trying to get out of the bed without disturbing her children. It was a nightly ritual by now. They were sent to bed, she'd take an hour to sob downstairs on her own, then sometime in the middle of the night Lily and Albus would sneak into the bed with her.

This morning even James had joined them. Of course he had outgrown crawling into bed with family members ages ago. Instead he laid awkwardly in an oversized chair with his feet kicked out onto the edge of the mattress.

Ginny slowly pulled herself out from the blankets, stretched over Lily, and was free from the bed. She grabbed a spare blanket and draped it over James, who turned as she did this. Carefully, she adjusted his head so he wouldn't have a crick in his neck when he woke up.

Ron and Hermione had come a week ago, helping to make the end of summer somewhat better than the beginning. Hugo and Rose at least were excellent distraction for Lily and Albus. Since Harry went missing, Newman Updike had taken over as interim head of the Auror department at the Ministry. Harry being replaced brought a pang of reality to Ginny, though it was not the worst one she'd experienced since Harry's disappearance.

A week ago Harry was awarded the Order of Merlin, first class, but in his absence, the family was invited to receive it on his behalf. Ginny almost refused outright. She was furious and raged against Ron that this was proof that they'd given up and were allowing her children to grow up without their father. Hermione was the one who calmed her on this count. "Ron would _never_ give up on Harry," she said, holding Ginny's wrists to stop her pacing. "We are going to find out where he is, but the kids need to know that the reason he is gone right now is because he was doing the right thing."

"I'd rather he had done the wrong thing and still be here," James said, holding his broom at the kitchen doorway.

Ginny deflated. "Why aren't you outside with the others?"

"I wanted to get a drink."

Ginny sat with him and they discussed the award and the ceremony. They decided they would put on a brave face together for the others, and James was ultimately the one who accepted the award from Updike on Harry's behalf.

"There's a lad," Updike said to James. "I'm sorry for your loss. Your dad would be so proud of you."

James gave a narrowed glare, obviously irritated with the finality of Updike's condolences.

Molly was already in the kitchen making breakfast as Ginny entered. "Since their lists came yesterday I thought today would be the perfect day for you to go to Diagon Alley," Molly said.

"I know it's his birthday, Mum," Ginny replied.

"Well, there's that too," she said. "It will be a good outing for everyone. Good morning, Hermione!"

"Rose was hoping you might be able to fix her jumper," she said to Molly, bringing over a pink knitted sweater with a fair-sized hole in it. "How are you this morning Ginny?"

"I'm still here," she said.

Hermione grabbed two cups, filling them with hot chocolate and bringing them to the table. While the past month had been the worst in Ginny's life, she was grateful for Hermione who nodded when she was honest on how she felt and would pass Ginny information that Ron kept close to his chest for worry of Ginny's reaction. "Ron left already this morning. Updike is encouraging him to pick up on other cases, so he's been trying to work on Harry's before and after anyone else is there."

"He's what?!" Ginny practically shouted. "Why?"

Hermione looked equally perturbed. " _Resources_ he says. I don't know," Hermione said as Molly brought each of them plates of pancakes. "Updike seems to like his position."

"Harry's position, you mean," Ginny said.

The most frustrating part about all of this was the lack of repercussion. Ginny couldn't question what was happening at the office and she couldn't make accusations, because that's all they were. Ron was doing all he could, but Updike, being older, had claimed seniority. Additionally, he had a few friends higher up in the ministry who Ginny suspected played a role in his appointment. "Apparently he's been going back to some old policies, too."

When Harry was promoted to head of the Auror Department he had made radical changes, with Ron right at his side. They were changing the way law enforcement worked within the wizarding world and not everyone agreed with the changes. Updike was one of them.

"Ron's doing what he can," Hermione reassured Ginny again. Of course three weeks ago she was reassuring Ginny that they would find Harry any day now. As the days and weeks passed, Ginny was losing heart. It wasn't becoming any easier.

Rose and Albus were the first two down for breakfast and seemed in reasonably good spirits when they were told a trip Diagon Alley was on the day's agenda.

"Can I get my own owl this year?" Albus asked.

"I was actually thinking of getting a family owl," Ginny replied, standing to take her plate to the sink.

"But James is going to hog it," Albus complained.

Ginny smiled as Rosie distracted Albus by telling him about a new spell she'd learned.

James came down, surly and rubbing sleep from his eyes, soon followed by Lily and then Hugo. When everyone was up and finished with breakfast, they encouraged all the kids to get dressed so they could get going.

Ginny grabbed the lists from Hogwarts and looked them over. The kids had been shouting out what they needed, but she hadn't seen them for herself. Lily was beginning her second year, Al was going into his fourth (he needed some dress robes), and James would enter his fifth.

"Ginny, can you get me out the good silverware before you go," Molly asked. "I thought we'd have a nice dinner tonight."

Ginny didn't know how she felt about this. There was a part of her that absolutely wanted to keep Harry's birthday in everyone's mind, yet it felt so much like a memorial that she wasn't sure how the kids would handle it. She wondered if they would even notice. Opening the cupboard where the nice china was set, Ginny noticed something tucked away behind a stack of plates. Her mother's old clock.

She pulled it out, peeking over her shoulder to make sure her mother wasn't looking her way. It was close to how it had looked before, when it hung on the wall as reference. Her and her mum's pictures were pointed at home. Charlie was traveling. And everyone else was at work. The only odd image was Fred's. It didn't seem to know exactly where to settle, spinning round and round. Molly had never wanted to get the clock fixed—saying it was like erasing a member of the family—yet Ginny could see why she'd hidden it away too. The spinning of Fred's image was not only distracting, but a consistent reminder of his absence.

Ginny looked on the back of the clock, finding the maker's mark. She'd add one more thing to her list to pick up today at Diagon Alley.


	2. The Message

_**The Message**_

The Potters and Weasleys had been to the bookstore, to the apothecary for potion ingredients, and to Quidditch Quality Supply, where Ginny bought James some new gloves and the other two their own gear. Harry would have liked that. James was on the Gryffindor team and Lily was going to try out for an opening this year. James was pretty convinced she'd get on the team. And though Albus didn't play at school, he loved playing with family at home and the Burrow.

"Alright, next on the list—" Ginny pulled out the three lists again.

"Can't we visit Uncle George's shop now?" Albus asked.

"Yeah, Mum," Hugo entreated Hermione as well. "He said he had some new fake wands, but he didn't tell us what they turned into!"

"Well if it isn't some of Hogwart's best and brightest!"

The whole group turned to find Neville Longbottom, one arm full of what looked to be various forms of plant food.

"Professor Longbottom!" Rose exclaimed. "I've been working all summer on how to tame Devil's Snare. You did promise we would learn about it this term. Remember?"

Neville laughed. "My, you are your mother's daughter," he said with a smile. Rosie went pink. "Well, a promise is a promise. We will do Devil's Snare when term starts." He turned his attention to Hermione and Ginny, leaning towards each to kiss their cheeks in turn. "And how are you?"

This question was accompanied with a significant glance to Ginny. Of course he knew about Harry. They were able to keep his disappearance out of the news for only a week, and only that long with the understanding that the Ministry might lose its advantage for finding him were it released immediately. After a week reporters grew demanding and there were still no leads. Updike allowed the story to run.

"We are holding up and enjoying the summer at my parents'," she said and he nodded.

"Well, if you have a few minutes to grab a drink later, I'd love to chat," he said.

"Ginny, why don't I take everyone to George's shop and you can meet us there when you're ready," Hermione offered.

"I needed to grab a couple non-school things too, if you don't mind," Ginny said.

"Take your time. George will have lots to show off, I'm sure."

The children excitedly buzzed down the street as soon as this was decided. "Keep an eye on your sister, James and Al!" Ginny called after them.

"Leaky Cauldron then?" Neville asked. Ginny nodded and lead the way.

The pub was crowded and warm. Ginny found them a small table while Neville ordered them both drinks. "I didn't even ask after Hannah," Ginny said as Neville settled in. "How is she doing?"

"Oh, she's doing well. She's getting ready to start as the nurse this year at Hogwarts, so we finally bought our own place in Hogsmeade. She's getting everything settled. Hannah was going to come with me today, but I was planning to drop by your place after my errands. Lucky I ran into you, actually."

"Really?" Ginny asked. They occasionally invited the Longbottoms for holidays or stopped in if they were going to be anywhere near the school during term. When Hannah was landlady here at the Leaky Cauldron it was easier to see them when they came to London, but dropping by was rare now that they lived so far out.

"I got this by owl yesterday," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper.

From his robes Neville pulled out a paper folded into a sort of makeshift envelope, handing it to Ginny. It had a weight to it and she tipped it over, a familiar gold ring with silver edges dropping into her palm. Inside was a delicate script reading _Harry James Potter_ , though Ginny didn't need to see the writing to know this was Harry's wedding band. She opened the envelope quickly. The ink looked like the color of dry blood. There were no words, but three symbols were drawn out in thin, blotchy lines. Only one of these Ginny recognized: the Malfoy family coat of arms.

Ginny looked up to Neville, whose expression was grave now. "Who—?" It was the only word she could manage to find.

"I don't know for sure," Neville said. "I don't want to get your hopes up, but I think it's from Harry directly."

"But then why wouldn't he send it to me? Or Ron?" she asked, her heart in her throat.

"That is what made me think it's from him, actually," Neville said. "If it were someone using Harry as bait, they would absolutely send it to you or someone in the Auror department. If it was for ransom there would have been more written."

"So you think he believes it would be intercepted if it came to one of us," she posited.

Neville nodded. "And maybe it's someone close to Ron or the Ministry involved in why he went missing. I think he probably sent it knowing I'd get in touch, but who's going to expect him to send something important to some Herbology teacher?"

"If they were smart then they'd know to watch you too," Ginny said. After all, Neville was not only godfather to Albus, but he'd worked as an Auror for several years, until Professor Sprout announced her retirement. Neville immediately knew he wanted the position and changed his career course. This was typical for most aurors. Often they would find more tame positions after they got their fill. Harry and Ron were just too deep in the department to leave.

"Well then we can assume that he knew whoever he's dealing with isn't terribly bright. Or they don't have a lot of information," Neville replied.

This was only a small comfort to Ginny. Stupid people could still torture Harry. Stupid people could kill him. She fingered his wedding band, feeling the cold metal against her skin. He was alive now, though. This was more than she'd dared to hope lately and she looked over to Neville. "Thank you," she said.

"If you need anything else, Ginny," he said, leaning forward.

"Just," Ginny paused, "keep an eye on my kids this year. Make sure they're okay."

He nodded and they finished their drinks. Ginny had two stops to make. The first was to the clockmaker. She put in an order, being told she'd receive it by post in the next week. The second stop was to the owl emporium.

"Hello there," a kind, pudgy woman said as she entered. "What can I help you with today?"

"I need an owl," Ginny said. "One that can handle quick trips and possibly long distances."

After selecting a brown and black great-horned owl, Ginny set back towards George's shop. As Hermione had predicted, George was still showing off a few new products.

"Pick a card, any card," he said, holding out a fanned set of playing cards to James.

"But this is a muggle trick," he said. James had that look he'd developed over the past year; the one that said he was an underwhelmed teenager. As soon as he pulled the card, however, his ears grew upward, growing grey fur, and looked uncannily like a donkey.

The other kids were laughing and James snorted as he put the card back down, his ears took a minute before they returned to normal. "Each card will change a nose, ears, or, with a couple of the wild cards, your friend's entire head."

"That is so cool!" Albus declared.

"And for that, these are yours," George said, handing Albus the deck of cards and breaking through the group, giving Ginny a large, tight hug. "Hi, sis," he said.

"Hey Georgey," she replied.

He pulled her back, looking at her face. "You look peaky. Did you see a ghost or something?"

Hermione was right behind him, looking at her curiously as well.

"Oh I'm good," Ginny said. "Just rushing around. Didn't want to leave Hermione alone with this bunch too long."

"Mum! He's so pretty!" Lily said, coming up to the cage. "I think we'll name you… Peregrine!"

"That's a stupid name," Albus said, his lip curled in disgust.

"It is not," Lily snapped. "It's dignified. Right Mum?"

Ginny smiled down at her kids. "I think it's a lovely name."

* * *

Ginny started to gather maps and did research on the other two symbols on the page. Nothing was coming up in the registry of magical corporations or any records of wizarding family crests. She resorted to looking through advertisements in the Daily Prophet to see if something, anything, came up. Of course her time was limited to when the kids went to sleep. She hadn't told them and she wasn't planning to. There was enough sorrow over their father missing to put any lofty possibilities of finding him onto them as well.

Six days after their visit to Diagon Alley, the clock had come. Molly eyed her curiously when the package arrived, but she put the box under her bed and said it was something for the house, though she hadn't been back there except for once to pick up all the kids' things for school and some more clothes for herself. That night she kept the lights out, opened the box with shaky hands. Her and the children were all pointed towards "Home". She supposed the Burrow was just as much their home as their own house. Especially this summer.

For a moment, Ginny was relieved to see that Harry's hand was not spinning incessantly. The relief could not last long, however, as it was pointed directly at _Mortal Peril_. Taking the clock, she placed it in the bottom drawer of her desk, underneath the maps and reference materials she was using.

The next morning she helped get the kids ready and fed. "Let's go play a game of Quidditch," she suggested. "And then I have a meeting with Beth at the magazine."

"Oh," Hermione said. "I thought the season was practically over."

It was. Ginny had missed the last month and a half of assignments, Beth having told her to take as much time as she needed under the circumstances. "Sometimes there's profile pieces they're getting ready and, of course, there will be new player announcements in the fall. Usually they let junior writers take those on, but I need something to keep me busy once this lot heads back to Hogwarts."

They played three on three, Rose, Lily, and Ginny against James, Albus, and Hugo. James was taking every chance to show up Ginny, riding circles around her and reminding Ginny that her days playing for the Holyhead Harpies were far behind her. "What's the matter, Mum?" James taunted. "Those old bones need some oil?"

Ginny smirked and the next play, as he was low to the grass, she pulled out an old move, diving right for him and the quaffle, grabbing the ball and making a quick last minute turn. The tail of her broom knocked him clean off and he rolled on the ground. "What was that about old bones?" she asked.

All the others were laughing as Ginny got off her broom and helped James to his feet, dusting him off. He smiled begrudgingly too. "You need to teach me that one."

"And there are plenty more where that comes from, James Sirius," she said. They both got back on their brooms and finished playing.

Ginny was plenty sore when she finally left them to continue on their own and changed into some fresh clothes. "I'll be back in an hour or two," she called, and headed out.

Rather than apparating to the _Quidditch Monthly_ headquarters, however, Ginny found herself at the outer gates of the Malfoy Mansion. She couldn't believe she was here. They were on reasonable terms, meaning that the Malfoys and Potters each lead different lives and ignored one another. But she'd come to a dead end on the symbols and there had to be some reason this one was drawn. She braced herself, entering the gates and coming to the front door. Ginny knocked.

A few minutes later the door was opened by Draco's wife, Astoria. "Hello," she said, kindly, though confused.

Ginny remembered Astoria from school, though from a distance. She was always a quiet girl. Slytherin, of course, but not as outspokenly hateful as some of the others. "Hi," Ginny said. "I know it is strange for me to be here, but I was wondering if I could speak with your husband."

Astoria nodded. "Come in, please."

If Ginny had ever imagined the extravagance of the Malfoy Mansion, she realized now it was far less than the reality. A marble staircase in the center curled upward, lined with shelves and glass cases. "I am terribly sorry for what you have dealt with this summer," Astoria said.

Ginny was surprised at the kindness in her voice as, obviously, they had never been on speaking terms. "Thank you," she said simply.

"My older brother went missing a few years ago," she said. "Though we believe it may have been him going into hiding. Regardless, I can only imagine what you are dealing with."

They had come to a large door of dark wood. Astoria knocked on it gently, then slowly opened it. "Draco, darling," she said. "You have a visitor."

Astoria pushed the door open further and Draco looked up from whatever he had been writing. A confused expression as he put down his quill and stood. "Well, Ginny Weasley," he said.

"Potter," she replied, trying to hold back the irritation at him intentionally using her maiden name. "As I'm sure you're well aware."

Draco's lips curled up. He looked to Astoria. "I will be down for lunch after this," he said. "Then we can go for Scorpio's school things."

Astoria nodded and closed the door.

"Have a seat," Draco said, pointing to a chair with his wand and pulling it forward. Ginny sat. "And feel free to get right to the point. I highly doubt this is a social call."

Ginny blushed. This was all true, but the way he said it with his drawl brought back the memory of how Draco had been during their years at school. "I need to know what you know about this," she said. Ginny had used a fresh piece of parchment that morning and traced out the two unknown symbols Harry had drawn.

Draco picked up the paper and looked closely at it. "The first one, I am not sure," he said. "But how did you know I would know of this other?"

She would need to tread carefully. Piss off Draco and he might not tell her anymore than this. And if he was involved, he was more likely to show his hand if Ginny didn't act like she suspected as much. "Let's just say your name came up in relation."

"If this has to do with Harry, you should know I have no idea where he is," Draco said, sitting behind his desk, still examining the paper. "This symbol—" he pointed at the second one "—belongs to an Australian muggle who came to my father a few years back with some kind of business opportunity."

"So your father works with him?" Ginny asked.

"No," Draco said, flatly. "I have more or less given up the lessons he taught me, but even after leaving the Death Eaters my parents never would accept muggles as anything more than a scourge. My father turned him out quickly."

"But," Ginny processed what Draco just said, "if the man was a muggle, how was he able to approach your father in the first place? I mean to say, I'd have assumed there were anti-muggle protections on this property."

"There were," Draco said. "Are, actually. Admittedly I don't see a reason to take them down. I'm not sure how he was able to get through, except that it was apparent he had some relation to muggle-born kin. I suppose that exempted him. Regardless, we never did hear from him after that."

"When exactly was this?" Ginny asked.

Draco thought a few minutes before answering. "Four years ago at least," he said. "Just before father allowed me to take over the mansion and the rest of the family business matters." He rifled through his desk, shuffling through the top drawers. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give you this."

He reached out with a small business card, black with small white print. Ginny turned it to see one of the two symbols on the back. The only other writing was the name _Leonard Godfrey._ No address or contact information other than this, but it was still more than she had before. "Thank you," she said, looking up and making eye contact with Draco.

"I wasn't using it anyway," he said. "Is there anything else?"

Ginny shook her head.

"I will have our house elf escort you out, then," Draco said.

Ginny nodded and stood to leave. As she opened the door Draco added, "I do hope you can find him." She looked back, surprised at his words. "For your children's sake."

* * *

"Albus!" Ginny shouted from the kitchen. "I hope you have everything ready, because it's time to go!"

Ron had managed to round up some ministry cars to take everyone to the station. James and Lily were ready to go, just finishing their breakfast as Molly fussed that they needed more to keep full. Ginny had packed up her own things, telling her family that she needed to get back to normal life. Molly, of course, said she should stay until Harry was back, but Ginny insisted it was time. She'd carefully packed her clock and research underneath the clothes she had brought.

She'd also apparated once more to hers and Harry's home in the middle of the night as everyone slept. She found herself distracted with old pictures: ones of her and Harry, their wedding, bringing home Lily for the first time… Once she pulled herself away from these, eyes flooding, she grabbed the last few things she needed. When searching through the drawers for Harry's Invisibility Cloak, she even found an old locket on a simple silver chain. She unhooked the clasp, adding Harry's ring onto it, and placed it around her neck.

"Lily, Peregrine will go on the train with you," Ginny said. "I want you all to share him and send me letters whenever you need."

Albus finally came down and they were able to pack the cars. They rushed onto the platform, getting everyone situated. Ron and Hermione were helping Hugo, who seemed to have more trouble than usual finding a space for his trunk.

"Let us know if you hear anything about Dad," James instructed Ginny. She nodded and kissed him on the cheek. Last year he would have wiped it away. Today he held on a little tighter.

Lily was starting to cry, getting choked up. "Oh, darling," Ginny said, kneeling in front of her. "You are going to have such a great year."

Lily nodded. "Dad's always been here to drop us off," she said. Ginny had to swallow back tears that were threatening to spring forward as she wrapped her arms around her daughter.

"He's always with you, Lily," she whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek as well.

"Come on Lily," James said. His jaw was tight, like he was trying not to let Harry being gone bother him. "You can sit with me today if you want."

He reached out a hand and she took it, looking back only once as they were on their way to the train.

Albus hung back a little. Before Ginny could reach over and pull him into a hug, he threw himself around her neck and Ginny caught him. "I know you're leaving to look for him."

Shocked, she pulled him back a little, pushing back the same untidy, black hair his father had. "What do you mean darling?" she asked. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I saw the maps," he said. "And Dad's ring. And I saw you packing everything up." Albus was starting to tear up now too. "Mum, I don't want you to go. What if you don't come back either?"

Ginny pulled him into her again, feeling guilty. "Oh, darling, I will be here. I will always be here," she said. "I am just an owl away, okay? I'm just following up on some information. We're going to find your dad and bring him home."

She could feel Albus nod into her neck. "I won't tell the others," he said. "Just— be safe, okay Mum?"

"Of course," Ginny said, kissing the top of his head one last time before he ran off to the train.

She waited as the whistle blew. Of course one of them would have realized. Wasn't she Albus's age when she tried so hard to find out what the Order of the Phoenix was up to? The same school year that she was part of Dumbledore's Army and went to fight in the Department of Mysteries? A part of her faltered as Ron and Hermione came to join her. They all waved goodbye to the kids. Ginny noticed that Albus, too, had joined the same compartment as his brother and sister. James usually ditched his siblings as soon as his friends were around. Ginny was both proud and saddened by how he took the mantle on his shoulders in Harry's absence.

"You know," Ron said, cautiously, "we have an extra room at our place."

"I really need to head back home, actually," Ginny lied. She looked over to him, wanting to tell him everything so badly. The last month had been torture in regards to the struggle of whether to share the information with Ron, especially after talking to Malfoy. As she considered what Neville told her, however, she realized she would be putting Ron in trouble by telling him. She kept wondering if the portal was created because Harry was getting too close to something. And if they did it once, they would do it again. She couldn't let Ron disappear too. Not on top of everything else.

Ron turned towards Ginny, hands deep in his pockets and said quietly, "I'm worried about you being by yourself."

She plastered a smile on. "I'll be okay. I'm going to start writing again. Do you have any news on Harry?"

Ginny saw a momentary flash in Ron's eyes, a decision passing, then he lowered his gaze and shook his head. "Not yet," he said.

They took a few minutes longer on the platform, then headed back into the real world. Ginny asked if she could use the ministry car once more. Ron seemed curious about why, but said yes in the end. Ginny kissed him and Hermione goodbye, then got into the backseat, her bag still in the trunk. "I need to go to the muggle airport, please," she said.


	3. The American

_**The American**_

Ginny left England and arrived in Australia safely by plane. There were a few moments she thought it wouldn't happen, though. The first was when they took off (how could something this large hold everyone up in the air safely without magic?) and for about an hour mid-flight the plane shook so violently that Ginny clawed into the armrests of her chair. Where she had gotten on the plane knowing how jealous her father would be of her doing this, she felt by the end that the experience would cure him of this particular obsession. None of the muggles seemed fazed by this, but she was certain there must be some dark witch or wizard trying to throw them off course. Never again would she travel this way, if she could help it.

Ginny had considered apparating, but she had more to carry than she felt she could manage for the distance. A broom ride would have taken a considerable amount of stamina, and more time than she thought she had. Additionally, Ginny wanted to draw as little attention to herself when she arrived at the little wizarding town outside of Melbourne called Duwick. Of course Portkeys were out, as she neither wanted the Ministry of Magic involved, nor to leave a way for Ron to follow her here.

When she got into the little apartment—a one bedroom with chips of paint coming off the wall and a stove that looked like it was new back in 1940—she wrote three letters. The first was to the kids, a quick expression of her love, the second was to Ron and (by extension) her family, letting them know she was safe, that she would write often, and a request for them not to try and find her. The third was to Neville.

Remembering his offer to help and realizing just how far away she was, Ginny had looked into floo network. It was slightly less reliable here, but also less regulated. As with her lease, she registered for the floo network under a pseudonym and figured she could at least tell Neville, in case any emergencies required her attention at Hogwarts.

She went out exploring, finding a small post with owls to send her letters off. This town was very different from Hogsmeade, which had a consistent Old English village feel to it. Instead, Duwick was perfectly divided between modern magical community, and aboriginal traditions and customs. One shop (if it could be called that—it was simply four poles with large, dry leaves shading the merchandise which sat on the floor) was run by an elderly aboriginal man with dark, leathery skin and white hair. "I think I know what you need," he said, pointing at Ginny. "A Pensive, made from the wood of the oldest magic tree in Australia."

Ginny politely declined. It took only one night, alone and with nothing to do, for Ginny to go back and see if the pensive was still for sale. With the worn, dusty furniture of her flat, and the little she brought, this easily became the most valuable item in her possession.

* * *

Two weeks of wandering the shops had gotten Ginny nowhere. One shop full of necklaces with various aboriginal symbols made her hopeful until, after an hour of digging through these, she realized neither of the other two symbols she was looking for where there. She spent evenings writing letters and sifting through old memories of her and Harry. As a result of both activities, she found herself falling asleep while crying more often than not.

It was a Saturday morning and she wandered the shops again. Ginny had avoided asking about the symbol of the business card, unsure what the locals would think, even if they did recognize it. So she wandered the streets again, picking up some fresh groceries and trying to find something to get James, whose birthday was coming up at the start of October.

She looked at the map in her hands, trying to find the Quidditch shop that was around here somewhere, when someone rounded a corner, knocking Ginny's shopping bag from her arms. "Sorry!" a girl with an American accent bent down, helping to grab onions and picking up the loaf of bread carefully. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Oh it's fine," Ginny said. "My mind was drifting as—"

The girl had stood up, adjusting her sleeveless shirt as she looked around. Ginny stood, eyes wide. On her right arm, just below her shoulder, was a banded tattoo. Between two decorative lines was the third symbol; the one Ginny had been looking for. "Who are you?" she asked.

The girl looked back at her. She had a nose ring and heavy eye makeup, but everything else about her face was soft and pretty, like a porcelain doll. She had dark brown hair, green eyes that slanted down at the outside corners, and was just shorter than Ginny. She was perhaps eighteen or nineteen.

She was backing away, then turned and ran. Ginny dropped her groceries, and chased after her. "Wait!" she shouted through the crowds. "No, wait!"

The girl looked over her shoulder, then ducked down, dashing in between a crowd of shoppers. Ginny ran right up to the crowd's edge, stood on her toes, then swore loudly, holding a stitch in her side. She closed her eyes, trying to memorize how the girl looked, knowing, now, that she needed to look out for anyone else who had that same tattoo. Maybe it was the marking of a specific organization here—an organization like the Order of the Phoenix, or maybe something completely different. She wondered if there was even a chance that this would just lead to another clue, like Malfoy's tip off with Australia.

Ginny decided to go home rather than pick up the groceries and sat on the couch for a while thinking how the first time she'd made headway here and it was blown. She grabbed the pensive from the side table, pulled a few memories from her mind with her wand, and fell into one.

" _Hi, Ginny," Harry said, his crooked smile growing as Ginny walked out to the living room in new sea foam green dress robes._

" _What do you think?" she asked, giving a half twirl._

 _Harry stepped in, grabbing Ginny's hand and pulling her in by her waist. He wrapped one hand in the hair left loose and curly at her neck, the rest of us tied up in various knots and curls, especially done for the Quidditch Annual Ball her third year with the Harpies._

 _The kissing continued for a few minutes before they broke apart, Ginny smiling up at Harry. "You have a funny way of answering my questions."_

" _Your questions have a funny way of all having the same answer."_

 _She threw back her head and laughed. "I can't believe you just used a line like that," she said. "Don't get me wrong, it was a good one. I'll log it away for another day."_

" _Come on," he said, pulling her by the hand towards the door. "You are far too lovely not to show it off, and I already told Oliver Wood that he could save us a seat."_

 _Ginny followed him out the door._

A loud pop from outside the pensive distracted Ginny from the memory. She pulled herself back into the living room, the memory still glittering in the wooden bowl. Someone was in her bedroom, rustling around. She could hear the weight of them falling onto her bed, the old springs squeaking. She stood, grabbing her wand and holding it in front of her. Heart pounding, Ginny crept next to the bedroom door, quietly placing her hand on the doorknob. She held herself for a moment, then in one move, turned the handle and threw the door open, stepping in, wand fully out and pointed towards her bed. She stopped. "Charlie?"

There he was, smiling up at her, laying across her bed with his hands behind his head. "Hey Ginny."

Her elbow slacked. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Me?" Charlie asked. "You up and left everyone back home freaking out. What are you doing here?"

Ginny huffed herself up, putting her hands on her hips. "I am 38 years old, and I do not need my family trying to guilt trip me over what I decide to do."

"Okay, okay, calm down," he said, pushing himself up. "I mean, we all figure you're chasing after answers about Harry, but no one knows how much you even have to go on. Considering he vanished without a trace, you can imagine what everyone is worried will happen."

"I have been in touch, which I think is more than enough." Ginny noticed he was still grinning, pretty pleased with himself. "How did you track me anyway?"

"Do you remember when you were nine and Mum and Dad were taking the twins Diagon Alley for some kind of play? Well, I was left in charge of you and Ron, but you were so mad they weren't taking you too that you were threatening to run away. I think being the only girl made you used to getting what you wanted."

"Your point?"

"I just placed a little tracing charm on that locket Aunt Muriel gave you that you always wore," he said, obviously pleased with himself. "So when you disappeared once or twice, I could find you quickly. A lot less hassle."

Ginny stared at him, mouth gapping, eyes narrowing. She put her wand away and reached up, unclasping the chain, which still had both locket and Harry's ring. "I cannot believe you!" she said. "So you've just been spying on me for the last thirty years?"

"No, I certainly don't have time for that," Charlie said. His amusement wasn't fading. "I just thought I'd see if it still worked, on a lark."

"Well, take it off!" She shoved the chain towards him and Charlie, smiling, complied. "And don't expect that you can just drag me home like you did when I was nine either."

"I would never," he said. There was a pause and Charlie's face finally sobered. "Look, though, we all would feel better if someone was here with you. Just because of— the nature of what— I was thinking, there is a dragon colony about a hundred miles north of here. I put in a request after seeing where you were to move assignments, just for a year or so. I could stay with you… help you figure things out with my time off…"

Relief rushed through Ginny in a way that surprised her. It was like she hadn't even realized how lonely she was until he said he could stay here. "Yes," she said quickly. "Um, it's kind of a small flat, but—"

"That's fine," Charlie said. "I'll bring in a cot and a few things. I don't need a lot of space."

"Please don't tell the others where I am, though," she pleaded.

"Why don't you want them to know?" he asked, leaning back on the bed again.

Ginny grabbed her notes, the owl from Harry, and started to explain. She explained what Malfoy had said and what her and Neville had concluded together.

"And why not tell Ron?"

"There is something fishy going on at the Ministry, and I have no idea if it's widespread. As long as they think he's only looking into Harry, I think he's safer."

"Updike has been on his case about that," Charlie said. "Ron hasn't said it outright, but there's something about the way Updike is handling it that is making Ron suspicious."

That made sense. Updike seemed to gain the most from Harry's absence. "Once I have something solid—a location or a person—then I'll talk to him."

Charlie blew out a breath. "Okay. It's too bad that girl managed to ditch you today," he said.

Ginny nodded. She'd been so close to having at least a superficial answer for each symbol. She needed to find her again.

* * *

Having someone to talk through theories and information made the lack of new leads more tolerable. Charlie had thought to try a few different revealing spells on the business card, which gave them a very general location.

"That's in the middle of the desert," Ginny said, pinning it on the map. "Nothing else for miles."

"Odd," Charlie said, his brow knit. "I would imagine wizards can inhabit a small space out there with some water and apparate to any of the cities as needed, but why would you have some business out there? Did Malfoy know what kind of business opportunity it was?"

Ginny shook her head. "When I first talked to him, he only vaguely mentioned it being a business pitch. I sent a follow-up owl just last week to see if he knew what kind, and he said he did not."

"Rather ballsy for this muggle bloke to approach someone like the Malfoys."

"Yeah, unless he didn't know," Ginny said.

"It seems like he knew very well," Charlie replied. "I mean, how do you research wealthy wizarding families without also knowing they despise muggles?"

Charlie had a point. Ginny dropped the map to the table and rubbed her eyes.

"Well, I have to get to work," he said, finished off his bacon and standing. "I'll be back and we can pick up on this tonight."

Ginny nodded as he apparated with a loud pop. Thinking through the little she had to keep her preoccupied in the meantime, Ginny decided it was time to ask someone locally about this symbol.

"Hey Malcolm," Ginny said, smiling as she entered the general store in the town. They had a little of everything, including some Honeydukes chocolate. She figured she'd send some to each of the kids. Besides this, Malcolm was a chummy sort of fellow, always with a smile and a bad pun when she came in. He was in his early thirties, though his blonde hair was already starting to show signs of grey. He also seemed aware of the social happenings in Duwick, partly as a result of him having grown up in the town.

"Hi Tonks," Malcolm replied. Ginny had been going by Dora Tonks since she arrived in Australia. When it first came out of her mouth, Ginny wondered what the hell she was doing, but nearly a month in and it felt like she had Tonks here helping her in a strange sense. "What can I do for you today?"

"I actually needed some information if you have it," Ginny said. She pulled the business card from her pocket and placed it on the counter that Malcolm leaned against. "Do you know anything about this."

There was a look that seized the usual smile Malcolm wore. His eyes were intense and his mouth tightened. "Um, yeah," he said. "Just… give me a minute, okay?" he said, grabbing the business card and stepping into the back.

"But, can I—" she started, but he was gone. Ginny let out a breath, turning around and leaning back against the counter.

Looking around there shop, there were only a few people in here. Two men in the far corner leaned into each other, whispering. One of their eyes flitted towards her once, though Ginny thought maybe it was something around here he was looking at. Both were dressed in black pants and shirts. They were tall and built with layers of musculature. She turned back to see if Malcolm was coming out soon when someone grabbed her by the arm.

"Come," she said. The flash of dark hair, the nose ring, the American accent, and the tattoo on the right arm: it was the girl she had run into before. She turned and threw a handful of powder and the entire shop went dark. The girl still gripped her arm and started to pull. Ginny followed and they both left, with a couple people yelling in shock at the sudden blackout.

They stepped into the bright sunlight, but the girl wasn't stopping, she continued to pull Ginny down the road and through an alley. "Wait! What are you doing?"

"Saving your stupid ass," she snipped.

"Excuse me?" Ginny said.

"Are you an idiot? You're going to get Malcolm's family killed," she said, making another turn onto a street with mostly open shops and aboriginal sellers. She snatched a scarf as they passed the first vendor, then a blanket, ignoring the man shouting after her as she pulled Ginny into a run and pushed her between two shops that had fans and other large objects blocking the space. She threw the blanket around Ginny like a draping and wrapped the scarf around her head, tucking her red hair into the fabric. "Sit."

"I will not!" Ginny said. "Who are you?"

"Harry's other wife," she hissed at her. Ginny froze in shock. "Now, damn it, sit!"

"Not until you tell me what's going on!"

She pulled out a card of her own, smaller than the business card Ginny had just lost and with information written by hand rather than being printed. She shoved it into Ginny's hand. "You can come there tonight, but if you don't want to go missing, sit!"

Ginny finally complied and the girl knelt down rubbing dirt all over Ginny's face. "Now stay here, look down, and don't leave until you're sure the coast is clear," she said, then turned and ran.

The two men from the shop passed by. "Down that way," one of them said, a native Australian accent. "She's taken that way before, we could find the lot of them!"

Ginny stayed put for about 15 minutes, not moving and not looking around. When she felt they weren't coming back, she stood and walked back to her flat, keeping the blanket and scarf wrapped around her, despite the heat.


	4. Hell's Portal

**_Hell's Portal_**

 _Harry and Ginny sat in the growing grass of The Burrow, watching a summer meteor shower crossing the night sky. Ginny leaned back into him and Harry's arms wrapped tightly around her._

Ginny never realized that in this moment Harry wasn't watching the sky, but her face. They both looked so young, even though the older Ginny remembered feeling very grown at the time; barely twenty years old.

 _"Ginny," Harry whispered in her ear._

 _Ginny turned to face him, eyes wide and smiling already. "Yes?"_

 _"I know this isn't how this is supposed to go, that I should probably plan some big, elaborate thing. I don't even have a ring, but—"_

 _Ginny pulled back only slightly. Rather than her smile growing, her eyes became wider and her jaw dropped slightly, her expression becoming hopeful, hanging on Harry's next words._

As though she were really back in that moment, Ginny's stomach bottomed out, making room for a world of possibilities and goodness that life held.

 _"I have never wanted anything like I want you. Officially, that is." He reached one hand up to her cheek, his eyes searching hers with a lopsided grin. "And I'm sure there's nothing else I could ever want, if you would marry me."_

 _Ginny launched herself forward, kissing Harry. He rocked back, almost being knocked over, but recovered and they sat there kissing for several minutes before Harry pulled his lips away from Ginny's, forehead still touching hers. "Wait, so that's a yes right?"_

 _"Yes, you prat," she said with a laugh and they kissed again._

The older Ginny pulled herself out of the memory, eyes filled with tears. She had spent the entirety of the afternoon in the pensieve, one memory after another and her emotions continued to cycle with each recollection. After a memory such as this, she'd feel certain that Harry—her Harry—could never have a secret life. He'd never betray her like this.

Then she'd look at a more recent memory, one from an argument over the past year with his consistent tardiness from work. And she'd hear the ringing of the words from that afternoon: _Harry's other wife_. She was at least half his age and Ginny could feel terror and anger competing as they both crawled up her spine. How could he have another wife? Wouldn't she have seen some sign of this? Wouldn't she have realized that he was seeing someone else? Or, for that matter, that he was coming to Australia? None of it made sense, and the emotions would cycle all over again.

Ginny saw a glimpse of the memory of the last night she'd seen Harry swirling amid others and chose this one to dive into next.

" _Ginny, could you calm down please," Harry said, leaning forward and taking off his glasses to pinch his nose._

" _Calm down?" Ginny said, standing and grabbing several dirty dishes off the table. "You get home late almost everyday, haven't taken a day off in I can't remember how long, and now you're cancelling our family holiday to Peru."_

 _She dropped the dishes into the sink and walked back over. Harry tried to stand and help, but she snatched the dishes from his hands and did it herself. "I mean, tell me, Harry, do you just seek out the cases that are going to keep you away?"_

" _That's not fair, Ginny, you know I would never do that on purpose," he said._

" _Do I?" Ginny asked. She scrubbed the dishes by hand, using her wand to make each dish rinse, dry, and put itself away. "I swear, it seems like every time I turn around there's more and more required from your job and I'm left here to pick up the slack."_

" _What do you want from me?" Harry asked._

" _How about following through around here?" Ginny replied. "You have been talking up a holiday to Peru since Christmas. The kids have saved all their pocket money."_

Ginny pulled herself out, wincing at her tone. Peru seemed so unimportant in the wake of everything that had happened since that night. Of course if Harry had stayed, maybe they would have gone in August, like he had suggested.

Ginny started at that thought. August. That memory was longer. Harry had bumbled around the topic for a while before coming out with it. Touching her wand to the silvery surface, Ginny pulled that memory back to the top. With a flick, she watched the memory in reverse, waiting until the kids were there as well.

 _"James was going to show me some new games you can play with an exploding snaps deck," Albus said._

 _"Alright, but you don't get to stay up too late for it," Ginny said. "There's work to be done in the garden tomorrow morning before it gets too warm. And then I want some help with laundry if we're going to get everything ready for Peru next week."_

 _The clock read 8:30. Of course, they were having dinner later and later at that point, Ginny keeping the food warm until Harry got home._

 _Harry was sitting at the table, chasing one of the few remaining carrots around his plate._

 _"So I didn't ask how work was," Ginny said, sitting back down and filling both hers and Harry's water._

 _"A little crazy at the moment," he replied. "There's this strange occurrence we've noticed where wizards and witches are reporting voids that appear from nowhere, but when we go to investigate, they're gone. No missing person reports, though objects have clearly been disturbed."_

" _And no way to trace them?" Ginny asked._

" _Only vaguely. In one, we spotted this kind of—box," he said. "But whoever made it knows how to get past loopholes. It traces to the Pacific Ocean."_

" _But certainly it couldn't have been made in the middle of the ocean."_

" _No, no," Harry said. "Likely it's regional. Japan, Somoa, maybe even New Zealand."_

" _That sounds interesting." Ginny took a drink of water._

" _Yes, well," Harry squirmed in his chair, looking more like their teenager in the hot seat. "We may be onto a way to anticipate when and where the next will appear. I actually wanted to talk to you about that."_

 _Ginny tilted her head, putting her glass down._

" _I wanted to see if we could move Peru to the beginning of August," Harry suggested, his eyes avoiding hers. "Just so I can get this figured out, then I can be fully—"_

" _Are you kidding me?" Ginny interrupted._

" _No, I'm not," Harry said. "There's indications whoever's behind this is targeting wizards and witches, though we don't know who—"_

" _Do you realize you've said everyday since the kids got home that you would get home at five, and the earliest we've seen you is half seven."_

" _I know Ginny, but—"_

" _I thought you were doing that so that you could enjoy holiday, so I've not said a word."_

" _Ginny, could you calm down please."_

He had told her. At least she had some information, and she'd never thought to check. So he knew about the portal. Now she would just need this girl to tell her the rest. _Harry's other wife_.

There was a pop as Charlie arrived before Ginny could try and sift through more memories.

"Hey! How was your day?" he asked, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a glass to fill with water. His clothes were ashy, as they often were when he came home.

"I found her," Ginny said.

Charlie turned around and she reached over, handing him the paper with the address on it.

* * *

Charlie and Ginny both stood on the door stoop of a cottage on the outskirts of town. It was pretty, with little flowerbeds in the front and picturesque windows, white lace curtains edging them from the inside.

"Not what I expected," Ginny said as she knocked.

Charlie had his hand on his wand, down by his side. "You should have waited for my day off to ask anyone."

"Well I'm sorry," Ginny retorted, tired as he brought up this reprimand for the fifth time since she told him about her day. "I'm the one sitting alone all day and, excuse me, but I'd like to not just wait for answers to fall from the sky."

Charlie rolled his eyes, but didn't argue back. An older woman, thin with grey hair edging to white, opened the door, wearing old fashioned purple robes. "Yes?" she asked.

Ginny thought for a moment that the girl from earlier had lied. Charlie must have been thinking the same, looking over to Ginny. "I, uh, was given this address to meet someone," Ginny said. She held out the paper.

The woman gave a nonplussed glance at each of them, then opened the door wider. "In, come on in," she said.

Charlie stepped in first and Ginny followed. The woman stood behind the door and waited until they were both in the living room before shutting it behind them. "Out back and through the shed," she instructed.

Ginny turned to her. "What's back there?"

"Answers," the woman said, stepping at a brisk pace towards the rear of the house. "We can't talk about it here."

Charlie looked at Ginny. He followed the woman and Ginny, still wary of what they were getting themselves into, took up the rear reluctantly. She placed her hand on her own wand in her pocket. "When I close the door, you will wait for ten seconds and a door will appear on the other side," the woman said.

"You're not coming with?" Ginny asked, making a side glance to Charlie.

"Don't worry, dear," the woman said. "I must stay on this side as watch, but you are safe here."

Ginny looked at Charlie, then turned back to the woman and nodded. She closed the door and Ginny started counting in her head. The sound of strong wind shook the structure, though they neither moved, nor felt the effects of wind themselves. They both turned and, sure enough, a door grew on the other side.

"You stay behind me," Charlie said.

Ginny's heart pounded too hard for her to argue.

They both held their wands at their sides, but high, and Charlie opened the door. A group of people, sitting calmly around a large wooden table, looked over to them.

One or two people stood up, but everyone just looked. No one had wands drawn, and they were all young—like the girl. Save one man with ashy blonde hair, who walked towards them. "Welcome," he said solemnly. "I thought we were only expecting you," he added, looking around to Ginny. Charlie was still standing pretty firmly in front of her.

"This is my brother Charlie," she said.

"Peter," the man said, holding his hand out for Charlie. Charlie looked at it, placed his wand into his pocket and took the hand. The man then turned to Ginny, taking her hand too. "Come in, come in. Let me introduce you around."

The others who stood now sat, though all eyes were still on them. "This is Miles, Lezia, Ainsley—" each of them nodded in turn. "Eben, Imogen—she's the youngest—" a blonde girl who looked younger than Albus, though not quite as small as Lily blushed as she nodded. "Trenton, Dakota, Leighton, Taylor— I think you met already—" Ginny eyed her. She looked, if possible, younger than she did earlier. "—and that's Fritz there."

"Ginny," Ginny introduced herself.

"Ginny Potter," Taylor added, looking around at the table rather than at Ginny herself. Several seemed to understand something significant, their eyes darting back to her.

"I hadn't explained to them you would join us," Peter said. "In case you decided not to come. Have a seat—" he waved his wand and two chairs were added at the end of one of the tables. "We understand you have been looking for some answers. Where should we begin?" This he asked the others.

"For starters, I'd like to know when exactly my husband got married again," Ginny said, looking over to Taylor. She hadn't told Charlie about this part of her interaction with Taylor. She could practically feel him staring at her in confusion.

"Is that how she introduced herself?" Fritz asked, raising his eyebrows. He had a German accent. Imogen giggled while a couple other people rolled their eyes.

"You'll have to forgive Taylor," added Peter. "She likes dramatic entrances. Perhaps if we explain what we are fighting against, it might make more sense. You see, this has been a long term project for Leonard Godfrey—the man whose business card you had obtained. Twenty-five years or so he's been working on this. His brother, Liam, is a wizard and a rather powerful one at that. The Godfreys have always had big ambitions, but Leonard saw a real opportunity when he realized what his brother was."

"Almost as soon as Liam graduated, Leonard put him to work creating items for muggle use that utilized magic," Dakota picked up.

"But, the international secrecy codes would have outed that plan ages ago," Charlie interjected.

"Leonard is good," Peter took back over. "He only sells to high paying clients in specific industries. For example, specialty spas that use rejuvenating charms. Most of the employees and muggles that go in just think the spa uses top of the line equipment, but it's machines that are packed with the right kind of magic."

Eben, a tall young man with protruding eyes and mousy brown hair, made a sort of scoffing noise. "You make him sound almost harmless. You didn't mention the weapons he sells. And you left out the bribery of what he does to make people look the other way. The Australian Ministry is practically in his pocket, not to mention hand selected people from ministries internationally."

"This is true. Leonard uses as many tactics as are available."

"What does this have to do with Harry?" Ginny asked.

"I'm getting there," Peter said. "One of the main challenges he faced was in mass production. His brother certainly couldn't do this alone and he found that he did not have enough resources to bribe enough to staff his endeavor. So him and his brother created a community under the influence of the Imperius curse."

"How many people?" Charlie asked.

"About two hundred at any given time," Peter said.

Ginny's jaw dropped. "And no one noticed?"

"They operate in the middle of the desert," Dakota said. "No contact with anyone Leonard isn't sure is on board with his plans. And then he started to take runaways and orphans locally. Of course, that wasn't enough so he started planting Hell's portals elsewhere."

"What are Hell's Portals?" Charlie asked.

Ginny felt she already had an idea. This is what Harry had been investigating.

Fritz took a turn. "They create a kind of vortex. Leonard has agents all over the world that he pays on how many people they get each year. They find kids who are told they can get food or money if they go to a specific location at a certain time—usually somewhere excluded. The portal is activated and stays so until it takes in at least one person."

Harry had pushed others out of the way. It must have been some kid who was supposed to be taken and Harry was taken instead.

"There are problems with the Imperius Curse, of course," Peter said. "They figured out it didn't last long without a premise of a real life. When it's performed on someone whose day is essentially their normal routine, it can last for decades. So a few years in, they started making the insides of the dormitories look like home interiors. Then they would pair off individuals as they got older. Even if one of them were able to resist the curse, often they would continue to act like they couldn't, having developed real feelings for that person.

"If anyone escaped, they would often let them take their chance in the desert. If they did get far enough, there was another obstacle. One that only use of a wand could get them through."

There was a somber mood around the table at this. "A lot die that way," Trenton said. "But sometimes they kill those coming to just to keep things clean. Feed everyone else a line about them getting a job in Sydney, or something."

Ginny was feeling her pulse pick back up again. "I know Harry was investigating the portals. What happened when he came here? He isn't affected by the Imperius curse. Hasn't been for ages."

Everyone turned to Taylor for this. "They usually don't like taking wizards that old—it's easier to keep them as children. Easier to control—but he realized he was in a tight spot, so did what they wanted him to do anyway, pretended the curse worked. I had been coming out of it for a while. So they tried to use the curse to pair the two of us off."

"That's what she meant by marriage," Peter said, letting out a breath. "Rather unceremonious."

"But did —" Ginny couldn't bring herself to wonder how far the _unceremonious_ marriage went.

"I didn't screw him, if that's what you're wondering," Taylor said.

"Taylor!" Dakota reprimanded, but Ginny felt grateful she had gotten right to the point. All the pent up anger and distress melted away at once.

"Instead, when we were alone he pulled me the rest of the way out. It was rather like being jerked to a stop. Of course neither of us knew how to get out of the compound, so we went through the motions and showed up for our magic to be used by Godfrey and gathered intel. Fritz, we found out, had been doing the same for months."

"We were the lucky ones," Fritz said. "Most people make a run too quickly and die at the edges of the compound, not knowing about the barrier."

Imogen, who had paled, stood and excused herself. No one spoke as she entered the shed.

"Her parents died in the field," Ainsley said, pulling back her auburn hair into a loose bun. "Obviously, there are a handful of children born into the compound. Imogen was probably the only one born there that snapped out, and she did that three years ago when she was eleven. Snapped her parents out and they reacted. They tried to go through first and Imogen blames herself, poor dear."

Ginny looked back at the shed again. What a terrible life that poor girl had lived. This was much deeper than she could have imagined.

"So you got out," Charlie said, bringing their attention back to Taylor. "What happened to Harry?"

"We had a plan," Taylor said. "He came up with it. We needed wands to get through the barrier and he said he needed an owl. Early one morning him, me, and Fritz went into the main control rooms. We got wands and made our way to where they keep a dozen or so owls. Harry cut his finger and wrote something on a paper, folded it up and put his ring in, and sent it off."

Ginny pulled the long locket chain out, showing the ring.

Taylor smiled at her, for the first time, and Ginny felt better towards her than she had up until now. The smile disappeared as she started talking again. "We were almost to the barrier when they caught up to us. Harry pushed us forward, saying he'd catch up. He stopped them for a while. Fritz and I got free, at least. Made it here."

Silence settled over the group.

"He's still alive," Ginny said. She'd checked her clock before coming.

"We know," said Fritz. "They knew who he was and Leonard wouldn't let someone he could use as leverage go so easily."

"So if they don't kill him, and they haven't used him for ransom, what would they do with him?"

"We don't know for certain," said Peter. "But we know they have a place for such people."

"And what is this group trying to do?" Ginny asked.

They all looked at each other uncertain. "Most of us don't know how to do anything," Ainsley said.

"But you said they took you for your magic," Ginny said.

"Yes, we were conduits," Dakota said. "But almost none of us have learned how to actually control our magic. Except for Peter, who never really lived in the compound. There have been others that got out. Most of them end up going to live as muggles where ever they can. The rest of us... have people back there."

"How can we help?" Charlie asked. The group perked up. This was apparently beyond what they thought they could hope for.

Taylor looked skeptical at the offer. "You mean what can you do to save Harry?"

"Everyone," Charlie said. "We can't let this continue."

Taylor scoffed. "Sure," she said. "You'll get him and we'll be left to figure the rest of it out."

Ginny had to admit she wished she could do just that. Of course, Harry would never stand for it. They had to stop it, or Harry might just end up in worse danger than before. Besides, Ginny couldn't know this and not do _something_. "No, we do mean it. Does everyone have a wand?"

"Everyone except Eben and Imogen," Peter said. "Eben's broke after he got passed the barrier and Imogen... we don't know how she got out."

"Well I want to be involved," Ginny said. "I want my husband back and I know he would want to stop Leonard Godfrey." She looked at Charlie, who nodded. "So starting tomorrow, we train all of you."


	5. Recruitment

**_Recruitment_**

Lessons were, by almost every standard, going well. It was unsurprising that the group was eager and willing, but what Ginny was impressed by was the level of capability the group possessed.

"Yes, well, to pull yourself from the grasp of the Imperius curse requires strength, but to pull your mind from it so young also requires some real talent," Peter said, when Ginny voiced this to him.

Most of those in their group were over 17 and under 30. As a result, many of their strongest abilities were prevalent in ways that wouldn't have been in children in their first year at Hogwarts. Dakota, Treton, and Eben were particularly adept at charms, Lezia was quick with transfiguring (which helped as Ginny was now going by Lana around town and had to alter her appearance), and Leighton, Taylor, Ainsley, and Fritz were excellent at defensive work.

None of them quite compared to Imogen—fourteen and impressive. She picked up spells faster than Ginny even remembered Hermione doing, and without the theory and reading behind the effort. They'd found an aboriginal wand maker on the outskirts of town. Whenever Imogen had trouble, however, she would ignore the wand, usually dropping it, and just close her eyes in concentration. It was second nature. All of it.

"Good job," Ginny said, picking up Imogen's dropped wand. "But you don't want your eyes closed when someone is attacking you. And you can be a little more accurate with the wand."

"I'm sorry," Imogen said, twisting her long blonde hair over her right shoulder. More than anyone else, she wanted to please Ginny and Charlie as they thought.

"That's quite alright," Ginny said. "Let's try again."

Peter spent his days working as a liaison for the Australian Ministry, more as a plant to figure out who was being bribed, who was being coerced, and figuring out what they could of Leonard Godfrey's plans. Little, apparently, as every trail following him seemed to mysteriously go missing. Still, the evenings were spent speaking with Ginny and making plans with her and Charlie.

"I've never known a child to keep their ability to do magic without a wand so long," Ginny said.

"I've actually started to wonder about that myself," Charlie said. He'd had the day off and was there, helping during lessons and seeing what Ginny had been telling him about Imogen for nearly two weeks. "There are legends about wandless wizards."

"Wives tales," Peter said. "Mythology and whatnot. Meant to sell origin stories."

"But what if they're not? What if they're just rare. How does a child snap out of the Imperius Curse?"

"Harry did it in his fourth year," Ginny said. "He wasn't able to throw it off completely, but they were being trained and he was able to stave it off for a while."

"Yes, but he still had to finish learning. Besides, Harry was always top in Defense from what I remember. Dumbledore used to talk about it to the Order. His abilities had to do with You-Know-Who's curse transferring some powers. Imogen was born there. Never had any training."

Ginny looked over, where the others were all gathered, practicing protection spells. While the small group working to free those still in Godfrey's power all lived and acted like a pseudo family, Fritz and Dakota especially had taken Imogen under their wing, treating her like a little sister. She was a sweet girl, quiet and earnest. "Maybe," Ginny said. She didn't know what it meant if Imogen had legendary powers except that it may be the reason she was free while there were others that were not. She had suggested to Peter that Imogen be sent to Hogwarts, but he had disagreed with this idea, at least until Godfrey was no longer a threat. "I still can't get through to Taylor," she said.

"She's built up her layers," Peter acknowledged. "Just talk to her when you have a chance. One-on-one. I'd talk to her for you, but honestly I think that will make it worse."

Taylor was actually quite good, but often got into a huff and left lessons or just refused to do what everyone else was. Hot and cold, she would be fine one minute, but when she was corrected or, sometimes, for no apparent reason at all, she would distance herself.

They would meet in two nights with everyone to look at the layout of the compound and start on a plan. Ginny figured they were at least a couple months away from making any rescue attempts, which set her on edge whenever she thought about Harry waiting for that long. The closest to comfort that she could get was when Charlie told her that they would certainly make demands before harming him. If that happened before they were all ready, he and Ginny would make a singular attempt on their own to get Harry. "But that needs to be a last resort," Charlie said firmly. Ginny nodded.

Meanwhile, she'd gotten another round of letters from Peregrine. Lily had made the team and was excited for practices to start. Albus asked about what was going on. James mentioned a couple creatures they'd studied in Care of Magical Creatures, but his note was shortest by far.

She wrote back, including a box of chocolates and a Quidditch scorekeeping book for James to use as the new season started up; both for his birthday. She let out a deep breath when she realized James was 16 in two days. Two days. Nothing made her feel quite as old as realizing her children were nearly grown up.

* * *

Four days later and Peter had issued an ultimatum to Taylor: she could do private lessons with Ginny, or she could be left on guard duty with Mrs. Gertrude (what everyone called the older woman who owned the home façade) while everyone else learned magic and planned. Unfortunately she'd gotten behind and Ginny was already having to divide up the day as different people advanced and could do things the others couldn't.

Taylor absolutely should have been in that advanced group. Unfortunately she wasn't warming any more to Ginny with private lessons.

"Try a little more of a flick with your wrist," Ginny said.

"I AM trying," Taylor snapped.

Ginny took a deep breath. "I didn't say you weren't trying, Taylor. I'm trying to help you master the spell."

Taylor glared at her, but turned back to the pillow.

"Now. You are saying it correctly, so just concentrate and flick your wand at the end."

" _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," Taylor said.

The pillow levitated in the air and she held it there.

"Perfect!" Ginny praised. "We can do it a few more times and then we can work on another—"

"Like what? Throwing the pillows at people? These spells are useless."

"These spells are the building blocks to others, first of all," Ginny finally snapped. "And this particular spell saved my brother and his friends when he used it on a troll's club to knock it out. And it saved Harry once when he was in a sidecar and the flying motorbike separated. But if you really think all of this is useless, I can tell Peter you changed your mind."

"No, fine," Taylor said quickly. "Sorry, I just..."

Ginny watched her expression jump from apologetic, to abashed, and back to defiant again in moments. Ginny put down her wand. "Let's take a break," Ginny said. "Want a butterbeer?"

Taylor looked skeptical for a moment, then nodded.

Ginny summoned two from the fridge, and settled into an armchair in her living room. "I've been meaning to ask you about that first day I saw you," Ginny said. "Why did you run?"

Taylor gave her usual shrug. "When you're not sure, you run. That's how I've kept from being caught."

"But you recognized me."

"Not at first," Taylor said. She popped the top to her butterbeer and sat opposite of Ginny. "When I started thinking through it and asked Peter to bring me papers about Harry, I realized who you were. Then I started following you around the shops sometimes. I was trying to figure out how to approach you. Harry told me about you. And about your kids."

Ginny found her heart in her throat. Her next words came out strained. "What did he say?"

"I don't think I remember most of it," Taylor said. "Not the specifics anyway. The kids in school... that you have known each other since you were kids... stuff like that. He'd sleep on the floor and let me have the bed, because they would monitor that couples were, you know, together in their dormitories. And he'd just talk until he fell asleep. He didn't even care if I was listening."

Ginny didn't even notice her tears until one rolled over her lips. Taylor looked over at her and steeled herself.

"He was really nice," she said shortly.

Ginny nodded. "I'm glad to hear it," she said. Silence hung between them for a minute.

"Should I try that charm again?"

"Sure," Ginny nodded.

Taylor practiced the levitation charm three more times with absolute success. They were about to attempt and vanishing charm when a head popped into the fire. "Ginny?"

Taylor jumped back, clutching her chest. "What the hell?!"

Ginny turned to see Neville's head there in the flames. "Neville!" Ginny looked at the clock. Eight thirty here. She did some quick math in her head. Just before noon at Hogwarts. "Is something wrong?"

"It's James," he said with a sigh. "Professor McGonagall would like to see you at your earliest convenience."

"I will come through your grate in five minutes," Ginny said, her heart already pounding. "Oh and I need a favor!"

"Sure," Neville said. "What is it?"

"I need to speak with Ron in person. Could you contact him on my behalf and see if he can meet me at Hogsmeade around dinner?"

"Yes," Neville said, then disappeared.

* * *

Neville caught Ginny as she fell through the grate. "Is he in the hospital wing?" Ginny asked quickly.

"Oh, no," Neville said. "He is physically well. That is, unless Minerva has finally lost patience and decided to throttle him."

Ginny eyes widened, looking to Neville for answers, but he just grabbed her overnight bag, setting it down by the hearth, and guiding her by the elbow out of the house. "She has him in her office. I think it's better to have the full conversation there."

Neville was, of course, the Gryffindor head of house now. It was one of the reasons she'd had peace of mind when letters from her children weren't as enthusiastic as they may have been in past years. They made their way up the steps of the castle and straight towards the gargoyles that guarded the Head office suite. "Fawkes," Neville said, giving Ginny's arm a squeeze as the Gargoyle moved and stairs appeared.

When they got to the top, Neville knocked and a moment later, the familiar voice invited them in. Ginny lead the way. James was sitting in a chair on the other side of McGonagall's desk. McGonagall was definitely older, the last of her hair having gone white. Harry and Ginny hadn't seen her in a few years. In fact, the last time they had come was when James was knocked out cold by a bludger in his third year.

James looked at her, then back down. It reminded her, surprisingly, of lessons with Taylor. "Hello, Mrs. Potter," McGonagall said. "I hope your journey was pleasant."

"Mostly just unexpected," Ginny said, taking the chair beside James. "Neville has not filled me in on what's going on."

"Perhaps you would like to do that, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall looked to James who just shrugged. Neville settled to the right, leaning against a column. "This morning during breakfast, James slipped veritaserum into his brother's milk, resulting in a long, and rather public, monologue about what he knew in regards to your whereabouts, which was interrupted by Professor Longbottom escorting him into an adjacent room until the potion wore off."

Ginny turned to James, teeth grinding as she stared at him. He chanced a glance over, then looked down again. "How on earth did you get veritaserum?"

"I made it," he mumbled.

"You MADE it?!" she shouted. "And then you gave it to your _brother_? What if you had poisoned him?!"

"I wasn't going to poison him, I made it right," James said, sounding offended at the accusation that he could possibly make a potion incorrectly.

"Of course, there is the issue that such a potion is quite illegal, James," Neville pointed out. James looked down at his hands again.

"Of all the trouble we've had this year, this absolutely takes the cake," McGonagall said.

"All the trouble?" Ginny asked. "I haven't heard of any trouble."

"I have sent half a dozen owls with disciplinary notifications. He's been taken off the Quidditch team, as he has not turned in homework for nearly three weeks now, and lead a group of fellow Gryffindors around the school trying to create large, lifelike lions at the entrances to each of the other houses," McGonagall listed off. "I'm sure Mr. Filch would be happy to give you a full list of grievances."

"Explain yourself," Ginny said, sounding dangerously like her own mother. "Why have I not received Professor McGonagall's notices?"

"I confunded the owls," James muttered again.

McGonagall took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes and leaned back in her chair. "I have never—" Ginny could only guess what she had never, though, because she seemed to lose words after this. She turned towards Ginny. "Professor Longbottom had, of course, spoken to me of the general nature of your situation and his involvement. I was surprised that I had not received a reply, but we both agreed there may be a good reason to not hear from you and were reluctant to have him reach out directly."

"So she gets to know?" James demanded, anger in his voice.

"If you know what is good for you, you will _not_ take that tone with anyone in this room," Ginny said.

This only ruffled him more. "He's my dad! And you've told Neville—"

"Professor Longbottom!"

"—and the headmistress, but leave me out entirely!"

"They are adults—"

"I don't care!"

Ginny took a deep breath as James sunk back in his chair, folding his arms and glaring at a quill on McGonagall's desk. "So what about spiking Albus's drink? Did you think it would be a laugh letting him spill his personal secrets in front of the whole school?"

"No," James stared at the same spot as he spoke. "He's been sulky since we got here. And he was always anxious for Peregrine to return, even if we just sent him. I tried to get him to tell me, but he wouldn't."

Ginny felt so badly for Albus in that moment, certain that James had needled him for the last six weeks. "And what did you get from torturing your younger brother?"

"What I already figured," James said. "That you were off finding Dad."

"Lily hadn't come down yet," Neville said.

Ginny felt a rush of relief. "And you are not to say a word to her about it," she said to James.

James turned to Ginny again, rage in his face again. "So she's supposed to find out once you go missing and we become orphans?"

"I am not going to go—"

"How do we know that? We're stuck here, not knowing where Dad is, not knowing where _you_ are and we're supposed to just carry on, I suppose."

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said in an even voice. "Because the situation calls for that."

"Bullshit," James retorted.

" _James Sirius Potter!_ "

"I want to go with you," he said. She saw in his eyes the same kind of earnestness that she saw in the eyes of those in Australia. "I want to help."

"This is your O.W.L. year," Ginny said.

"I don't care about O.W.L.s."

"Absolutely not."

"But I can help," James said. "I'm as old as you were when you were fighting Death Eaters."

"And why do you think we did that," Ginny reached out and grabbed his arm, shaking him, desperate to get through. "Why do you think we fought? Why do you think your Uncle Fred died? So that you wouldn't _live_ like that! Your father wouldn't thank me for dragging you in and endangering you."

"Well you don't know that, because he isn't here!" James shouted back. Tears were welling up in his eyes as he started to shake. "Do you know the last thing I said to him? He got up early and tried to get me out of bed. Dad wanted to play one-on-one Quidditch with me in the yard, and I told him to sod off!"

Ginny hadn't known about this. James pulled his arm from her grip and wiped the sleeve of his robes across his now dripping nose. Tears were coming down. "I can help," he said again.

All three adults looked at him as he bent over, hands wrapping around his neck.

Ginny looked over to Neville, who was easily the most calm in the group. "You do need to consider that O.W.L.s will need to be taken," he said. "But I will say, that in light of the... progress James has exhibited recently, I believe he has the self motivation to study independently for his exams."

"In addition, the staff is finding it difficult to not take further disciplinary action, as would have already happened with most students,"McGonagall said. "We have certainly taken circumstances into consideration, and will continue to do what we can for you, Ginny."

James had always been overly energetic, and often seemed ready to take George's previous title as troublemaker, but never let it get this far. "Have you been trying to get expelled?" James gave a half shrug that meant yes. "You know I could just send you to live with your Uncle Bill. Have him take you to work for the Goblins. They have no standards for child labor."

"I'll just run away," he said.

Ginny looked skyward and took a deep breath, letting it out long and slow. She looked at James, who looked hopeful. "I will bring you with me if you agree to the following conditions. First, you will be keeping up with the homework due here. I will send it weekly. Second, this is temporary. You will come back in March regardless of whether your father is home, no complaints, and finish out the year with no more hassle to your teachers." He nodded enthusiastically to both of these. "Third, as far as your siblings are concerned, the goblins are working you to death." He suppressed a smile at this. "Last, you will follow my every direction, no questions asked, whether you like what I tell you or not."

After James nodded at this last condition, Ginny turned to Neville. "Would you mind terribly if we imposed on you and Hannah for the night."

"We would be happy to have you," he said.

"Well," Ginny said. "Then I think you need to go fetch your trunk."

James stood, barreling into Ginny with a large hug. She reached around and hugged him just as tightly. "Thanks, Mum," he said, then dashed to the stairs.

Watching Neville follow where James had just disappeared, Ginny shook her head. "Sometimes I am so surprised how much like his father he is."

McGonagall was shuffling through papers on her desk. "You are mistaken, Ms. Weasley." Ginny looked back at McGonagall, who had a glint in her eyes. "James takes after his mother."


	6. Professor Potter

**_Professor Potter_**

The evening passed in a whirlwind of Hannah's hospitality as they waited for Ron to arrive. He was an hour later than initially decided, and James had been sent up to a guest room to settle in for the night. "There was a last minute meeting called and I couldn't bow out without explaining where I was going," Ron explained when he finally came through the grate. "And it's best no one knows I'm meeting you, I think."

"Uncle Ron!" James burst back into the Longbottom's kitchen.

"Back upstairs," Ginny pointed.

"But I thought I was going to get to help."

"Not with this."

"But, Mum—"

"Number four," she stared him down and James turned, stalking up the steps.

Ron was looking between the two of them. "What is James doing here?"

Ginny lifted her finger to Ron as the bedroom door upstairs shut. " _Accio Extendable Ears_ ," she said, hearing a growl from James seconds before the little objects flew into her hand. "That is a long story," she said.

Hannah excused herself as Neville pulled out three mugs for drinks. Ginny started first, explaining to Ron what Neville had received, what she'd discovered about Godfrey and the cryptic note, and had just started on the group she'd met when Ron cut her off.

"Don't tell me about any plans," he said. "I won't lie, I was really brassed off when you left like that, but it's becoming clearer that it was the smart thing to do. I need a certain about of deniability on my end."

"Why? What's happening?"

Ron's brow knit, looking as though he was sifting through his own information for what to share. "I think Updike's working for Godfrey," Ron said.

Ginny felt heat rise to her cheeks as she bit back a tirade. "Is there any proof?"

"Not yet," Ron said. "That's the problem. A lot is circumstantial and Hermione and I believe there may be someone else in our ministry being paid off for items or assistance, but we don't know who yet. Possibly an Unspeakable."

"You think Godfrey would have use of the Department of Mysteries?" Neville asked.

"Now that I know he's manipulating magic for muggles... I think it's definitely a possibility. It's been quiet with the portals since Harry disappeared, though, so there's no current patterns or trends to follow in that regard."

"Godfrey likely realized your department was closing in," Ginny said.

Ron nodded. "Updike tipped him off I'm sure, and now he wants to hand the whole case over to the Department of Transportation. Also, he asks after you about once a week—the git acts like he actually cares about how you're handling things. I tell him you're keeping busy with travel from work. I think he's trying to keep tabs on when the whole thing's forgotten."

"Well it's not just here they're using the portals," Ginny told him. "Have you tried to contact law enforcement from nearby ministries?"

"No, but I will now," Ron said. "Or I'll have Hermione do it so Updike won't be able to find out. She's ready to hold an inquiry on him as soon as we have something solid."

Their conversation lulled as everyone considered the pieces of the puzzle they hadn't had until now. "Are you really going to take James with you?" Ron asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes," she said. "I won't let him in the thick of it, but all I can think is how when we were left out of what was happening with the Order we'd find ways of being involved, sometimes when we shouldn't have. I want his involvement right under my nose."

"Good luck with that," Ron said. "And...Ginny... be safe."

Early the next morning Ginny took the floo network back to Australia, James close behind with his trunk. It was already afternoon there and Charlie stood in the center of the living room, teaching the others stunning spells. They stopped as Ginny introduced James around. Most everyone seemed pleased, though Taylor had her general surly demeanor and Imogen went pink around the ears as she gave a little wave.

Ending lessons early, Charlie and Ginny discussed living arrangements. Both agreed that the flat was already tight for the two of them, and with James needing space to study, they would have to upgrade. Charlie had a stipend, which would allow him to create a lease through work. "All the better if our names aren't attached," Ginny said.

Peter suggested a three bedroom cottage that shared a back garden with the headquarters on Mrs. Gertrude's property. After three days of planning, they were able to move into the quaint home and expand the enchantments to incorporate the two lots as one. A bonus in the arrangement was the ease of planning without having to consider their coming and going being apparent to potential spies in the community.

James adjusted well under the circumstances. The biggest problem Ginny had in the first week was reminding him that he had his own homework while she was working with the others on more foundational spells.

"But I can get to that essay later," he argued when she told James to finish his antidotes homework before joining the group in protection charms.

"Number one," Ginny replied.

She found the simple list of agreements made in McGonagall's office to be a useful tool when James started to argue. Number four—to follow every direction—was easily the most quoted. Number one (homework) followed closely behind. Though the conditions were tapering in mention by James' third week there, Ginny knew that if they didn't get Harry back by March number two would take a sudden lead. Three seemed to be an easy term, however, as James enjoyed pulling one over on his siblings.

An unintended benefit to James' inclusion in Australia was that Imogen—and the others, to a lesser extent— had the chance at a more even education. Often after they were done with specific spell work, Imogen would sidle up to James, looking over his shoulder at whatever textbook he had open. "What's a niffler?" she'd ask.

James would look at Imogen with a lopsided grin Ginny knew he inherited from Harry, and answer. More often than not the others would slowly situate themselves around James and pepper him with questions as he would lecture them on a variety of subjects: the history of witch burning, properties of moonstone, theories on charm development, and how to distinguish between different categories of hex work.

One evening in early November, Ginny poured herself a glass of red wine and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching James maintain the rapt attention of Imogen (sitting beside him), Fritz, Dakota, Eben, and Lezia with a lecture on the use of vanishing charms and the third principle of matter. Peter came in as James launched into listing the types of matter (in order of their vanishability) and mimicked Ginny's stance as he stood beside her. "Quite the professor," Peter said.

Ginny smiled. "At least I know he's employable. Would you like a drink?"

"I'll have the same as you, thank you," he replied and Ginny got him a glass, refilling her own.

"Anything new today?" she asked.

About twice a week Peter came back with news. Sometimes it was a new room in the compound he'd received information on, sometimes a new location for Godfrey to find workers. The worst days were the ones where he brought news of deaths. Ginny, of course, didn't know the people, but in the last week of October, he took Ainsley aside and told her Neal had snapped, been discovered, and was killed. Apparently her and Neal had been matched in the compound. "I didn't really have feelings for him, " she said when she'd transitioned from sobs to shock, "but he always bought me flowers. What did he think when I left?" This, above all else, reminded Ginny with a jolt of the risk Harry was still under.

"I didn't find anything today," Peter sighed. "I'm close to tapping into a surveillance link, but I don't know how reliable it will be."

They both watched the lesson quietly for several minutes before Peter spoke again. "He reminds me of my own son."

Ginny turned towards Peter. "I didn't know you had a son."

He nodded, a sad smile on his lips as he looked at James. "We got into a terrible row when he was a year or so younger than James. Both of us said terrible things, and he stormed out and I was convinced he would come crawling back and apologize after a day or two at a friend's. I never saw him again after that night, though."

Ginny had never asked Peter about how he got involved, though she now realized she should have by this point. She'd been working with them for nearly a month and a half now, and considering how much time they were spending together as a group, she had certainly gotten to know many of the others and how they ended up here. "Godfrey took him?" Ginny asked.

Peter nodded. "Offered pay with free lodging. Of course my son didn't know what he was agreeing to."

"What is his name?"

"Bradley."

"And so that's why you're doing this? To free Bradley?"

Peter didn't look at Ginny as he shook his head right to left, then finished his wine in one. She wondered how long he'd been investigating Godfrey when he found out his own son had been one of those killed. Ginny placed her hand on his, giving it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," he said, turning and placing his glass on the counter. "I must admit that having James here reminds me of him. It's refreshing, actually."

Ginny folded her arms in front of her and turned back to the table, watching James teach.

* * *

"Everyone is going to the muggle cinema," James said. The back door slammed behind him and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"The door, James," she said.

"Er—sorry... Can I go? Aunt Hermione used to tell us all about it. They make popcorn and have a giant screen with actors from all over on there."

"You have too much to do," she replied, taking a drink of her tea.

"But I'm done with everything assigned this week. I even gave Professor Hockney an extra six inches on the defense essay! Please?"

There was a part of Ginny that wanted to make clear that his poor behavior at Hogwarts wasn't to be rewarded, but it had been weeks since she'd felt any kickback from him on just about anything. Besides, he worked as tirelessly as almost anyone else there, juggling his school work, helping in general instruction, and then often continuing his lecture series into the evening. He'd even started using one night a week to provide potion lessons.

"Alright, but only if your Uncle Charlie agrees to go with you."

"Thanks!" he said, then barreled out the back door again to find Charlie.

"Door, James!"

He barely gave an apologetic shrug as he continued.

As everyone else made plans to go into Melbourne, Ginny found herself alone for the first time in weeks. With nothing else to do, she pulled out her pensieve again, setting it by her bed.

The last time she'd used the pensieve was to show Charlie and Peter her last memory with Harry, though she'd been apprehensive about Charlie seeing how she'd acted in that moment. She started it from the beginning, giving them a chance to hear what Harry had said, followed by a discussion of anything else Harry might have known that they did not. There was little they weren't already aware of, but Peter thanked her nonetheless for sharing. There hadn't been much time since for Ginny to indulge, but found herself ready to do so now that everyone else was gone.

For the first twenty minutes, she settled herself quietly in a memory with a toddler James curled up in sleep against Harry, who sat against the couch in their first family flat. Harry's free arm was twisted in a strange angle, trying to make a comfortable resting place for his head as Ginny's younger self lay across the couch, Albus showing in the form of a very pregnant belly. She was reading magazines, flipping through lazily and looking over at the pair of her boys every now and then to smile.

She followed this with the first time she held Lily, Harry kissing Ginny's forehead, still sweaty from labor. Then a Quidditch game at the Burrow when she was seventeen, and recently graduated. Ginny had teamed up with Hermione and was placing charms on the ball to make it impossible to steal, other enchantments to aim the ball when Hermione would throw it. Hermione and Ginny were winning 210-0 when Harry finally realized how she was cheating, and started chasing her rather than the ball.

Special dinners, anniversaries, and significant moments were visited beside the quiet nights that mostly built their marriage and home.

By the time she got to a particularly enjoyable memory of Christmas at the Burrow when James was about seven, Ginny had lost track of how long she'd been swimming through her own recollections. Everyone had come that year. The living room was full of children chasing one another and adults greeting each other, not to mention a technicolor of decorations that George had put together with his two kids.

"Mum?"

The non-memory Ginny turned around, seeing James behind her. She wiped some tears from her eyes. "I thought you were at the cinema?"

"We just got back. What's this? Is that me?"

Seven year old James ran by, jumping onto Arthur's back as Victorie and Roxane were already hanging off of him. Albus joined and Arthur dropped to the ground. _"You've got me, you've got me," he said._

Ginny laughed. "Yeah," she said. "You _never_ stopped moving. Not from the age of four until a couple years ago."

"Wow," James said, looking around at the crowded room. Victorie moved on to combing Lily's hair, practicing different types of braids. Teddy came in with Andromeda, James and Albus yelling loudly before running to tackle him. "Wait... wasn't this the year you and Dad gave me my first real broom?"

Ginny smiled looking over at him. "Yes," she said. "I thought we maybe should wait another year, because you were so reckless, but your dad agreed to take the responsibility for any and all trips to Mungo's."

James laughed. "But you still came when I broke my arm that spring."

"I tried to hold him to it, but I couldn't handle sitting at home waiting to see how you were," Ginny admitted.

"This is so cool," he said. "Why haven't you shown this to me before?"

"I don't want you spending energy dwelling in the past."

"But you have been?"

Ginny thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Is it because you miss Dad?"

Ginny looked at memory-Harry, who was whispering something in her ear. "Yes." Any time her children had been around, Ginny had put on a strong front, swallowing back tears and repeating affirmations to good outcomes she could only hope for. She'd wait until she was alone to let out her own fears and sorrow. Surrounded by this memory and wallowing in others—all which brought into sharp focus of what she would never have in the same way without Harry—and Ginny found herself sobbing, in spite of James being there.

James stepped up beside her, wrapping his skinny, long arms tightly around Ginny. "We're gonna get Dad back, Mum," he said. "Besides, he promised me ten galleons for each O.W.L. I get, and he's not getting out of it this easy."

Ginny gave a choked laugh, patting James's arm. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be blubbering like this."

"It's okay, Mum. I'll forgive you this time," James said with that same grin he used for Imogen more than anyone else these days. "Oh, and Peter had something he wanted everyone at a meeting for. I said I'd come get you."

Nodding, Ginny grabbed James's elbow and pulled both of them from the pensieve. By the time the two made it to the long table on Mrs. Gertrude's property, everyone else was already settled. There were two spots at the end near Charlie, though James forced a new one next to Imogen, squeezing in as Fritz moved down, looking with scrutiny at the two teens.

"Are you alright?" Charlie asked as Ginny sat beside him. She nodded.

"We have some good news," Peter said. "I have finally been able to see the security schema, and Godfrey relies on the same method as he does for production."

"Those under the Imperius Curse?" Ainsley asked.

Peter nodded, rolling out a map of the compound. "There are two or three hired hands that are supposed to take control over those under them from a center control room, which we now know is here." He pointed to the central building. "Getting there is going to be the trick. There are locking charms on about half a dozen doors, but if we can get Charlie and Ginny up to that room we have the entire compound."

"But we'd be fighting against the people we're trying to save," Dakota said.

There were concerned looks exchanged before everyone turned to back to Peter. "Yes," Peter said. "The way Godfrey has set this up, there's nothing we can do about that. But we can minimize damage by smart wand work and a plan that streamlines taking control. As soon as those in this room are overtaken, we can snap the others out."

"And you're sure Godfrey doesn't have a contingency plan?" Charlie asked.

"I think there was a time he did, but Godfrey is a terribly cocksure man. He's most certain of his own safety, which brings us to this," Peter dropped a paper with a crude drawing of some kind of thick metal bracelet. "This is how Godfrey has guaranteed his safety in the wizarding world. Something he had Liam make for him early on and improved along the way. Godfrey calls it his gauntlet and it deflects any jinx, curse, or hex thrown at him. In essence it's the ultimate shield."

"Our brothers made things like that for their shop," Charlie said. "All of them have weaknesses and limitations."

"This one doesn't seem to," Peter said. "And we want to avoid testing that theory. The advantage we do have is that he cannot actually cast spells. Once we can give liberty to those people, we can overpower him by shear numbers, no matter their condition."

"Does this mean we're finally taking action?" Taylor asked.

"Yes," Peter said. "In three weeks."

Ginny's stomach flipped. Three weeks. Three weeks until she could get Harry back. She felt a sudden urge to go and watch her clock, make sure Harry was still there, still waiting.

"One last thing," Peter said, looking over to Ginny and Charlie. "I was able to find out where Harry is being kept."

If Ginny thought what he'd said up to this point made her anxious, this sent her through the roof. "Where?"

Peter pointed to a space in a turret of the central building. "There," he said. "There's a room about here that he's in, but there doesn't appear to be anything in there, including a normal door. I'm trying to find out more, but I'm afraid we might be walking in blind to something rather precarious."

James leaned forward, looking intently at the spot Peter had just pointed out, like if he looked hard enough he could see his dad. "So how are we infiltrating?" he asked.

"You aren't going with," Ginny said at once. James looked up, gaping at her.

"But Mum—"

"Neither is Imogen," Fritz said, Dakota nodding beside him.

"Then why have we been practicing too?" Imogen asked.

"Because you need to know how to protect yourself," Ginny said. "Especially if something happens here, but there are enough of us for you two to stay behind."

"This is—" James stopped, his expression one of fury as he glared at Ginny. She imagined he was biting back words that would only get him sent back to Hogwarts.

"Your mother is right, James," Charlie finally said. "If you want to help, you can do so in the planning."

Imogen placed a hand on James's arm as he opened his mouth to retort. They shared a look and James composed himself. "Okay," he said. "Fine."

Ginny narrowed her eyes slightly, skeptical of the sudden compliance, but everyone else seemed content with this as Peter moved on to his thoughts of strategy. Ginny nodded occasionally and listened as others chimed in with their thoughts, the words _three weeks_ ringing in her mind.


	7. Runners

_**Runners**_

The mood among the group changed drastically when Peter set a time frame for their mission. The exact date would, of course, be dependent on any other intel received over the next week or two. The first lesson after that meeting, no one joked or messed around, but gave their full and undivided concentration. Taylor didn't let herself get frustrated and lash out, but became the force that Ginny thought she should have been from the start. Partnered with Leiza, Taylor blocked every jinx Leiza threw at her.

"Protego!" Taylor said with particular force about an hour into afternoon practice, throwing Leiza back into the side table of the living room.

"Damn, Taylor," Leiza said as Taylor reached out a hand to help her back up. "Where have you been all this time?"

Taylor suppressed a smile and Ginny gave her a simple pat on her shoulder and moved on to help Miles with his jellyleg jinx.

By the end of the third day, everyone was sore and exhausted, pushing themselves during practice, then collapsing as soon as they were given a moment of rest. Even Ginny, who had known these spells for over two decades, felt the wear and tear of each hour.

James and Imogen alone had energy at the end of the day. Mrs. Gertrude made a new habit of preparing both lunch and dinner—sometimes in her own kitchen, other times in Ginny's. Ginny was grateful to relinquish this task to someone else, making sure to delegate the setting and cleaning of the table in turns. Since both of them had set the table, James and Imogen excused themselves as soon as they had finished eating, James grabbing Imogen's hand and running out the back.

"Door, James!" Ginny called, this time before it slammed. He turned around, caught it, and helped it close quietly for once.

Fritz looked at the closed door, scowling. "Oh, stop it," Dakota said to him, grabbing another bread roll.

"It's too fast," he said.

"They're teenagers, what do you expect? Besides, how can you say that when we started dating two weeks after you got here?"

"We're both in our twenties," Fritz said. His argument was weak to Ginny, who knew Dakota was barely so and Fritz had just turned twenty-five. That still seemed young to Ginny, who was sure Fritz saw himself as older than he was. "She's only fourteen, Dakota." His German accent, usually so slight, intensified with his frustration.

Ginny stood and gathered a handful of dirty plates and made her way over to the sink. Imogen and James stood by the large tree near the fence. The evening light gave the faintest glow across the entire yard, though the kitchen light was still enough to create a spotlight on the couple. James pulled out his wand, conjured a large white flower in the palm of his hand, and tucked it behind Imogen's ear. Her straight white-blonde hair was barely darker than the petals. James wrapped her up in his arms.

"Besides, she couldn't possibly be ready for this kind of thing after the life she's lead," Fritz said, hitting on the one point Ginny could agree with.

Imogen was fourteen, but did not have the experiences of most fourteen year old girls. She'd never had a group of girls she giggled over boys with. She hadn't been through a school setting, socializing with many students her own age. She hadn't laughed and played growing up, discovering herself and her wants and needs the way kids should. By the time she had the capacity for these things, she was on the run, shortly followed by watching her parents die, and somehow surviving the desert to find a home here, essentially a life in hiding. Ever since, she'd been deeply entrenched in a group of young adults akin to the Order of the Phoenix.

No child could grow up normally under such circumstances. Ginny wasn't sure her and Harry and the others had really grown up normally either, but their childhoods seemed almost idyllic compared to Imogen's.

"She deserves a little bit of happiness, Fritz." This from Ainsley, exasperated at the conversation already.

Therein was where Fritz's argument fell apart: Imogen deserved some sense of normalcy, just as Ginny and Harry had deserved it at that age. Ginny's main concern was that James wouldn't know how to handle the complications of such a relationship. Imogen was sweet and quick to please. While Ginny had been thoroughly impressed with James's level of maturity in the last six months she wondered if he would know where to draw the line. Would he be as patient and understanding as Imogen needed him to be?

What Ginny did know, that Fritz had to realize for himself, was there was little they could do even if they wanted to. If James was at school, Ginny certainly could not dictate the terms of his dating life. Even now, watching Imogen's arms snake around James's neck, Ginny knew this wasn't the first time James had done this. He was too comfortable, swaying with her, while Imogen seemed unsure of herself, looking demurely down after he said something with his cocksure grin.

Fritz came over, turning the water off. Ginny hadn't realized she'd stopped cleaning dishes until he did that. He looked indignant at the closeness of the two teens.

"Don't you interrupt them," Dakota warned, still sitting at the table.

Ginny noticed James's hand lowering from the middle of Imogen's back. She thought perhaps she could help draw the line for James, just this once. Pulling out her wand, Ginny pointed it through the window at James. She watched his hand jerk as the jolting jinx hit its mark—a rather useful spell Ginny hadn't used since dating Michael Corner, who had a tendency to try and push Ginny further than she wanted to go.

Imogen rested her head on James's shoulder as he turned to glare at Ginny through the window. Ginny just smiled and waved. "That won't wear off for a few hours," she said to Fritz. He didn't seem satisfied by her answer. "And I'll talk to him tomorrow. Better yet, I'll get Charlie to talk to him. James will listen to Charlie." Fritz walked off, muttering darkly in German. James, too, wandered off, dragging Imogen into a more private corner of the property.

With nothing left to see, Ginny went into the living room, sitting across from Taylor, who was thumbing through James's copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_. "Fritz needs to lighten up," she said.

"It's good for Imogen to have someone looking over her at least," Ginny said.

"Yeah, I guess," Taylor said, a half-hearted way to stop the conversation.

Taylor's foot was bouncing as she flipped through page after page, licking her lips with knit brows. Ginny had seen her stoic, determined, contentious, and brash, but not anxious. "You doing alright?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, fine," Taylor said. "Just trying to learn some more non-damaging spells that might come in handy, you know."

"That's a good idea," Ginny said. "So who is it you're going back for?"

Taylor's foot stopped and she looked up at Ginny, tilting her head as if deciding whether or not to tell her. Taylor was still guarded with everyone, never getting too close. "My sister," Taylor finally responded.

"How old is she?"

"Eleven," Taylor said. "Same age as me when we were taken."

"And how did it happen?"

Taylor took her time again, closing the book, her expression more dangerous. "Why do you want to know?"

"Well if we're going to share a husband, I think it's about time we got to know each other."

Taylor tried to hold her expression, but cracked, laughing. "Thinking we're going to start having big family picnics now?" she asked.

"Only if you bring the sandwiches. Really, though, you know so much about my family."

"There's not much to say on mine," Taylor shrugged. "My mom died when my sister Emily was born and my dad hardly noticed us after that. Then one day he disappeared."

"And that's when you and your sister were taken?"

"No, we lived with my grandma for a while." Her tone became strained.

"What was she like?"

"Like a grandma," Taylor spat. "Look, I don't want to talk about the past, okay? I just want to get my sister and move on."

Ginny hadn't even pushed to get this much information up until now. Even Peter didn't know about Taylor's parents and barely knew about the sister, and that was only because Taylor had given the location of where her sister lived in the compound's housing. "You know family isn't just the one you were born with," Ginny said. Taylor opened up the book again, looking pointedly at the text. "Every single person here is your family."

"That's such crap," Taylor looked over the book. "We're all here for one reason only, and when we're done, there will be nothing left to joke about and nothing left to do with one another. Fritz and Dakota will go off and start a life, maybe pretending Imogen's their little ward, you and James will take Harry home, and maybe a couple of the others will exchange the occasional owl, but I'm not fooled into thinking anyone gives a damn about me and my sister. I'm going to get Emily and find somewhere that she'll be safe."

"So when Harry turned and sacrificed himself for you and Fritz he didn't give a damn about you?"

Taylor's expression flashed to one of regret, then iced back over. She clenched her jaw and started flipping furiously through its pages. Ginny stood, going back to the dishes.

* * *

It had been one full week when Peter came through the door at five o'clock, interrupting lessons, full of tense energy. "Ginny, Charlie, I need your help," he said.

"Does this have to do with tonight's planning?" Ginny asked. They decided dividing into three groups would be most effective. Ginny and Charlie were supposed to talk with everyone about their thoughts on the best groupings based on the progress of lessons.

"We're going to have to do that in a day or two," Peter said. "I just caught wind of a few runners."

Everyone else seemed to know what he meant. "I'll get the medicine bag," Ainsley said.

"Thank you," Peter replied, "Taylor, can you go get some food from Mrs. Gertrude?"

Taylor nodded and left.

"Runners?" Charlie asked.

"People who snapped. They are on the run and if we don't get to them, they'll hit the field and be killed. Eben, would you find the tents please. Ginny," he turned to her again. "There is a decent amount of risk and I normally go by myself, but you and Charlie can get a direct look of the compound edge this way. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," Ginny said.

"I will write to see if someone can change days off with me. And let them know I'll be late tomorrow at the least. Can I use Peregrine?" Charlie asked.

"Yes," Ginny said. She had letters to send Lily and Albus, but those could wait a day.

There was a hustle of activity as everyone brought back the items requested and Peter gave them quick rundown of the plan.

Once everything was packed, Ginny, Charlie, and Peter went into the backyard, brooms in hand and each carrying a bag of supplies—Charlie with the medicine, Peter holding a tent case, and Ginny with a large container of water and sack of food.

"Mum," James said, coming up. "Can't I come with?"

"We have to apparate," Peter said. "It's why I've never taken anyone with me, James. And we have to leave now."

Ginny looked at James, grabbing him by the neck and kissing his cheek. "I'll be back tomorrow, sweetheart. You listen to Fritz and behave yourself."

He nodded and moved back. Imogen, concern etched on her young face, grabbed his hand. Ginny looked to Peter who nodded and they all stepped forward.

Ginny knew the Australian desert was known for its extremities, but it was beyond what she could have ever imagined. Endless wasteland, a sea of sand and heat. It was strange to be approaching December and feel the sun pressing down on her with such intensity. She looked around, her eyes burning from a steady, fiery breeze.

"Hold your wands out," Peter said, dropping his bag and broom. Ginny and Charlie followed suit, walking in the same direction with their wands stretched out straight in front of them.

Charlie was the first to hit the barrier. He cursed as a green light parted the previously invisible shield, looking like a curtain held loosely open.

"Hold it there," Peter said, his wand hitting next.

Ginny found it a moment later, her arm shaking violently as a sharp pain shot up through her fingertips to the top of her shoulder.

"Now," Peter said, "Lift your arm and step under it."

He modeled this first, pushing upward and making the triangular shape widen before stepping through. Ginny closed her eyes, lifting and entering, turning so her arm was still holding its place. Opening her eyes, she brought her hand down brusquely and the curtain closed. She rubbed her arm. The sensation was like frozen skin regaining feeling, tingling as she massaged her elbow.

"Now what?" Charlie asked.

Peter flicked his wand, scanning the area. "They'll end up over this way," he said. "Keep your wand out to the right."

They both followed. Charlie's wand hit the barrier once more, his exclamation as much a sign as the green curtain appearing. They walked along for ten minutes before they saw anyone else. In the distance were three figures, running quickly towards the edge. The sound of a siren in the distance and—Ginny almost thought she was imagining it—the outlines of white buildings several miles off. Peter picked up his pace, breaking into a run towards the end. "Don't go any farther!" he shouted, out of breath.

The three turned towards him. Two young men and a young woman. None looked older than twenty. One of the men, who would have been handsome were his cheeks not sunken and his skin devoid of sun exposure, stepped in front of the others, arms outstretched. "You're going to have to kill us," he said loudly, his eyes wide with fear.

Ginny and Charlie still had their wands out to their right, but Peter had raised both hands up. Leaning down, he placed his wand at his feet. "No one here is gong to kill you," he said, raising his hands again. The man looked between Ginny and Charlie.

"I don't believe you," he said. The tremor in his voice belied the attempt to appear solid in front of the others. The young woman wept behind him. "You work for him."

"We work _against_ him."

Ginny mimicked what Peter had just done, setting her wand down and lifting her hands. "You can trust us," Ginny said.

"You need to listen to us. Come over here and we can get you beyond his reach," Peter said. "Charlie show them."

Charlie held out his wand, the green shuddering to life as the second man swore. "We have to," Ginny heard, but the rest of their exchange was in harsh whispers and hisses.

The leader of their group was still unsure, holding his ground. The siren grew louder, closer. Dark specks headed their direction, hovering above the ground. Maybe half a dozen growing dots in the sky. "How do we know we can trust you?"

"You don't have a choice," Peter said honestly. "Come with us and you live."

The woman acted first. She looked over her shoulder, seeing the figures and ran towards Ginny. The other two shouted for her at first, swore, and then followed. Ginny grabbed her wand and stepped forward cautiously, keeping her free arm outstretched to keep the panicky woman from barging ahead without protection. Her wand hit the barrier and her arm shook again, the shock less intense than the first time. She lifted her arm and ushered the young woman through. She ducked, covering her dark hair as though worried sparks would rain down on her as she passed.

Ginny followed right behind. " _Accio broom_ ," Ginny said. She looked back and the others were through, running. The woman tripped and Ginny stopped, lifting her by her elbows. "Come on," she urged. Her feet were unsteady as she got back up, stumbling forward. The figures were much closer as the brooms finally arrived. Ginny mounted and adjusted the woman onto the space behind her. Looking over her shoulder she could see spells creating whole doorways that figures flew through as Ginny kicked off.

Pressing down on the broom, Ginny followed behind Charlie, who was right behind Peter. A red light lashed against her left arm, pushing her off course as the woman screamed. Ginny could feel the blood, but didn't look as she pointed behind her. "Impedimenta!" she shouted. Whoever was there fell off their broom. There were two more gaining on them.

"Hold on just a little longer," Peter shouted.

Ginny saw gold sparks, dodging right, then left. The woman began slipping and held tighter to Ginny's middle.

And they hit another barrier, one that didn't shock or spark, but blew a cool breeze against Ginny, pushing back her hair. Ginny turned around. She could still see the figures. Four left, stalking the edges of where they just passed. One man attempted a hex, but it bounced back and he barely avoided being blasted by the ricochet. He growled. "Back, now," he ordered and they all turned.

Ginny let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and the young woman, who was already on tenterhooks, buried her face in Ginny's back, shaking and sobbing even louder. Ginny lowered herself to the ground, dismounting and helping the woman off as well. "It's alright, now. You'll be alright."

The leader of their group, who had ridden with Charlie, walked over to the only tree in sight and vomited while the other collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily and digging his hands into the sand.

"What about the supplies?" Charlie asked Peter.

"I will retrieve them in half an hour or so," he said, pulling a leather pouch from his robes. Pointing to the opening, he said, " _Augmenti_ ," and it filled with water.

Peter gave it to Ginny first, who coaxed the woman into drinking. "There you go," she said as the woman took large, clumsy gulps. When she had her fill, Ginny handed it to Charlie, who took it to each of the men in turn.

After the coast was clear, Peter went back to get the food, tent, and medical supplies. The sun had dipped down by the time they'd taken care of immediate needs of the three. As they started a fire, heating some water for tea, they finally got their names. "I'm Colt, this is Grant and Nellie," the leader said. Nellie still seemed apprehensive to be separated from Ginny, so she sat there, rubbing Nellie's back as Nellie took deep breaths. "I woke up yesterday and just... realized I wasn't where I thought I was. Or... I don't know how to describe it."

Peter nodded, not saying anything, but let them talk as he moved over to Nellie, rubbing a salve on her cracked and bleeding feet.

Grant picked up on the story, describing how the three of them decided to make a run for it, thinking during dinner would be the ideal time to attract the least attention. They talked, most of it nonsensical to Ginny, until they ran out of words. Only then did Peter make his pitch.

"We have a safe house," Peter said. "You will be welcome to stay, or we can help you establish yourself somewhere that you won't be followed. But for now, you all need rest. We will have an early and full morning of traveling. If it helps, I have a sleeping draught—"

"You two should take some," Colt said to the others. "I want to be awake if something happens." Despite the obvious skepticism to his tone, Peter never pushed , letting Colt and the others take the lead where possible.

After settling all of them in the tent twenty feet away from the fire, it was clear that Colt's body was unable to fulfill his resolve and all three were asleep inside the tent within a quarter hour. "We should probably take this in shifts," Peter suggested. "At least one of needs to sleep."

"Charlie has been awake the longest," Ginny said, turning towards him. "So you should get some rest."

"Alright. I'll take the next shift."

He squeezed Ginny's hand on the way towards a second, smaller tent.

Peter pulled a bottle from the rations. "How about a little firewhiskey and we'll look at that arm."

Ginny took the proffered drink, lifting it and taking a few large gulps. She handed it back to Peter, who took a drink as well, then grabbed the bag of potions and bandages. Riffling through, he pulled a jar, fresh linens, and a cloth.

In hindsight, Ginny realized she should have done this sooner. The pain had intensified in the last two hours, which she was sure was a result of neglect. With Nellie's anxiety and the others needing immediate care, however, she had felt she could wait, insisting a tightly bounded cloth was enough for the moment. Now it throbbed steadily, though the blood clotted and dried over. Peter dampened the cloth, carefully wiping the blood from the skin around the wound. Even after the firewhiskey, when Peter got close to exposed flesh Ginny had to brace herself, shuddering and gritting her teeth to keep from pulling away.

"Tell me about your other kids," Peter said.

"Albus is fourteen," Ginny started. "He loves playing chess. My brother Ron taught him. Ow!"

"Sorry," Peter said.

"Lily," Ginny said, then stopped, pressing her lips together as Peter cleaned the open wound. "Lily is, I'm afraid, going to be quite like me. Stubborn and independent."

Peter chuckled. "And strong and brave."

Ginny smiled, then growled as Peter used the wand to clean what the cloth could not. "Almost there."

Ginny nodded. Her fingers clutched the edges of the wood stump she sat on.

Peter looked at her, pulling his stump closer as he grabbed the salve and spread it across her skin with his fingers. Ginny relaxed as the pain faded into numbness. "We're going to have to do this again tomorrow before we close the wound," he said. "For now, we'll dress it to keep it as clean as possible." After wrapping her arm in clean white strips of fabric, he grabbed the firewhiskey, taking another drink, offering it to Ginny again.

"No, thank you," she said this time. She wanted to stay alert, give Charlie as much sleep as possible. They still didn't know whether he would get tomorrow off or not.

Peter drank some more, leaned forward, and looked up at the stars. "I keep thinking about what's going to happen after all this is over. I've been at it so long, I don't think I remember what life was like before."

Ginny could only imagine this is what was going through most of the group's mind. Six months had seemed an eternity, but it was nothing compared to the rest, who'd had years stolen from them. Years and so much more. "Do you think you'll stay in Duwick?"

"No," Peter said. "There will be nothing but reminders. It's one thing to deal with them while there is something to be accomplished, but I need a fresh start. Have you thought of how things will be after?"

"A lot," she admitted. Ginny often thought of how she wanted things to be, how _she_ wanted to be. She wanted to make the most of their time together from now on, appreciate hours with Harry and the kids.

"Have you thought of what it might be like... without Harry?" Peter's tone held trepidation and when Ginny turned to look at him, he had inched closer, his eyes beseeching.

"What?"

"Just... what if... if Harry isn't the same or—if we don't get to him in time. Do you think you might stay?"

"No," Ginny said. "No, that's not going to happen. He's alive and we're going to get him back and go home."

"Ginny," Peter reached out grabbing her hands in his. "Marriages don't get better after tragedy—"

"You don't know what Harry and I have been through."

"—I do know you're imagining it will be better after this. I felt that way with my wife too. When we knew Bradley died I tried to convince her that we could start over. She just spiraled, and left. Sometimes one person isn't enough to save it. You are the most incredible woman I have ever met and you deserve more than what Harry was giving you."

Ginny pulled her hands from Peter's, standing and walking away from him. He followed. "He didn't appreciate you. He should have made more time—"

"You don't know anything."

"I saw it in the memory you showed us! He was completely dismissive—"

"That was one time! Once! You don't know him."

"He hadn't been around for weeks! You said so yourself." Peter caught up, turning Ginny around. His hands weren't gentle as they had been tending to her wound. One hand held her good arm the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him. His eyes were pleading and insistent. "Stay with me, Ginny. I would be a great father to your children. I could care for you and for them. We could start a new life together. And I would never take you for granted. Never."

There was a moment of silence before Peter leaned forward, crushing his lips onto Ginny's. She jerked away, ripping her arm out of his hand and pushing him back, her wounded arm aching through the salve, protesting the force used.

Ginny reached for her wand and walked away once more.

"Ginny," Peter's voice caught as she flicked her wand, hearing the slap hit his cheek.


	8. The Pool

**_The Pool_**

Ginny and Peter didn't speak the next morning as they got ready. Peter's cheek was still speckled with red and Charlie kept asking Ginny if she was all right.

"I already told you I'm okay," she said. "My arm is just bothering me."

"Peter, do you have anything for that?"

Peter dug through the bag, pulling out the jar of salve he'd used the night before, handing it over wordlessly. He turned back to the tents, collapsing and packing them. Colt, Grant, and Nellie all sat, tentatively eating the bread and fruit given to them. Soon they were packed and paired up, the sun just peeking over the horizon.

Two years before, Peter had created a field of portkeys that were assigned various locations around Duwick, waiting to be activated once needed. The field was nearly ten miles from the campsite, which would put them back in the town early enough to avoid the morning crowds. Peter looked around for a while before picking up a coffee tin, touching his wand to it and holding it out. "This will take us in a minute. Everyone find a spot to touch," he instructed.

They arrived in a back alley in the center of town. Peter lead the group and Charlie took the rear, leaving Ginny to stay on one side, keeping a lookout for anyone else. They found only a couple sellers out, all who rushed inside when they noticed Peter. Godfrey had his thumb on the community and it was best for everyone involved if they saw nothing.

"Hold it," he said, his arm outstretched as they hid in a shadow. Two middle aged wizards, off from a night of drinking, stumbled by them, stopping just beyond the group. They stood in the street, exchanging slurred compliments to one another.

" _Somno_ ," Ginny said, circling her wand in their direction. The two slumped against the wall, yawning. A minute later, both slept, the shorter man with his head tilted back, mouth wide open.

Peter signaled to continue. One alley over, and they were on the street where Mrs. Gertrude lived. The old woman opened the door as the group approached, ushering everyone in and leading them up the stairs to an empty room with four beds. She directed the three new arrivals to settle in. "You are safe here. Lunch is at noon, but if you need anything at all, just call down."

Peter stalked out without saying anything. Ginny and Charlie helped them adjust and carried the tents back down, Mrs. Gertrude pointing out where they were kept. The extra food was also put back in her kitchen before they excused themselves to their own home.

Fritz was leading a practice session when they stepped through the door. Everyone stopped, turning towards them. "Mum!" James said. "What happened to your arm?"

"Nothing that needs fussing," Ginny said. Her voice cracked, making her response less convincing. Ainsley hurried into the kitchen and filled two glasses of water, bringing them to Ginny and Charlie. James tried to guide Ginny into the armchair. "Really, James I'm fine. You're acting like I broke a hip or something." Charlie snorted at this. "At least I have someone to take care of me in my old age," she added.

"Oh, I plan to be a dragon's lunch by the time I'm slow enough to need care." Even as he said it, he groaned while lowering himself to the couch. Ginny was satisfied that he was not much better off than she was, and with the curse wound at least she had an excuse.

Everyone peppered them with questions about the runners, how Ginny was injured, and thinly veiled requests for a play-by-play of the night.

"Where's Peter?" Imogen asked.

"Mrs. Gertrude's I think," Charlie said, looking over to Ginny.

She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks at the mention of him. "I'm not sure. He may have had to go into work."

The group seemed to accept this as they moved on to other things. Peregrine had come with a reply that someone was covering for Charlie, so him and Ginny went to get some more rest as the others continued their practice.

They woke while Mrs. Gertrude issued directions to some of the others in getting dinner ready. "You've done enough," Mrs. Gertrude said to Ginny as she entered the kitchen, asking to help. "You just relaxed."

With nothing else to do, Ginny asked Charlie to help her clean and close the gash on her arm. James insisted on sitting beside her, making for a crowded bathroom between the three of them. "Careful Uncle Charlie!" he demanded as Ginny winced.

Whether it was a result of waiting to care for the arm or the specific type of curse that caused the cut, numbing was no longer effective. Ginny knew she just had to grit her teeth through it, but James was much less accepting of this fact. Charlie was obviously irritated each time James reprimanded him and Ginny thought he was doing an excellent job not telling James off. "I have to get it cleaned properly, or it will only get worse."

Charlie touched her arm and Ginny tried not to make a face, but was apparently unsuccessful. "You're hurting her!"

"James, can you go get some tea made for me?" Ginny finally asked as he stopped Charlie a fourth time.

"Sure, Mum, anything." He left as Charlie pointed his wand to continue.

"I never thought I'd get tired of James being helpful," Ginny said with a smile.

"No kidding," Charlie said. "I think seeing you injured has really shaken him up."

Ginny was glad, in a sense, that this seemed like a terrible injury to James, whose life had been free of the types of incidents that were common when Voldemort was on the rise. She only had to think of the excursion to the Department of Mysteries in her fourth year to realize how slight this seemed to the risk they'd faced then.

"And now that we're finally alone, do you want to tell me what's going on?" Charlie prodded.

"What do you mean?"

Charlie ran the cloth under clean water, wringing out the excess. "Why was Peter acting strange this morning?"

Ginny grimaced as he touched her arm, then explained. Charlie's frown etched deeper the more she told him. "I thought I'd seen him watching you a couple times," he said. "What do you want to do about it? Should I talk with him?"

"No, I think that might just make it worse," she said. "I just have to make sure he can't get me alone when he's been drinking, I suppose. I doubt he'd do anything after last night anyway."

Charlie looked unsure, but didn't argue. "Well, should we close this up?"

Ginny nodded, reaching out to grip the edge of the counter. She looked away and braced herself. Charlie muttered a steady incantation and Ginny let out a constrained yelp of pain as the wound closed.

James burst back into the bathroom. "What's happening? Are you okay?"

"She's _fine_ ," Charlie growled at James while Ginny caught her breath.

* * *

One week left. Or at least that was the last information Ginny had received. Peter had preoccupied himself with work since the night in the desert, passing information to Charlie or Fritz, then heading back and leaving the rest of them to their normal routine. Colt, Nellie, and Grant joined them for meals on occasion now, but mostly kept to themselves, sorting through the transition with one another.

Shortly before dinner on Friday Ginny noticed several of the men circled around the coffee table in the living room. "What's going on?" she asked.

Miles laughed as Eben laid out a large mirror with James and Imogen showing in its reflective surface on the table. "We found this book in James's room," he said, barely able to hold back a chortle. "Decided we needed to try one of the spells out."

Sure enough, on the table was a book titled _Spells for Sleuths: Everyday Charms for the Everyday Spy_. Ginny picked it up, noticing the distinct Hogwarts library markers, and looked through the index. The whole fourth chapter was dedicated to interrogation and included instructions for making veritaserum, which made it clear why James had checked it out in the first place.

"So I suppose this is a Spy Glass?" Ginny asked.

"We have a pool going to when James will seal the deal," Eben explained.

Fritz slumped in the armchair, his jaw clenched.

"How do you know they haven't kissed already?" Dakota asked. Her and Ainsley were joining the crowd.

"Leiza asked Imogen," Miles replied. "And we've been watching them all week."

In another few minutes everyone except Taylor and Leighton (who continued practicing) were crowded around the mirror, watching James and Imogen. Mrs. Gertrude continued cooking in the kitchen, peeking over Trenton's shoulder in between tasks. They sat in a secluded corner of the yard Ginny barely recognized, Imogen's legs situated to one side with James's arm around her neck. There was no sound, though Ginny could see they were talking. "So that's their new hiding spot," Ainsley said.

"Come on," Eben muttered. "Come on, James."

"Young love," Mrs. Gertrude sighed, stirring the stew on the stovetop. "I remember my first summer after graduating. I spent two whole months in Spain near the sea. Oh, I met this dashing local, Alejandro. He could do things in that sand that—"

"I don't think I need to hear anymore," Miles interjected.

"Well it was lovely," Mrs. Gertrude finished in a huff.

James tucked a strand of hair behind Imogen's ear and kissed her forehead. She leaned against his shoulder.

"It's not going to happen," Charlie chimed in, stepping up behind Leiza.

"He almost did it last night," Trenton said. "Chickened out, if you ask me."

"You just think that because it was your day on the pool," scoffed Miles.

Imogen pulled back, her smile wide as she looked up at James. His right hand cupped her cheek, their gaze direct and unbroken.

"Here we go, here we go," Eben bounced excitedly. Fritz stood, walked through the kitchen and out the back, letting the door slam behind him. "He better not ruin my chances here."

James leaned in, his lips touching Imogen's in a tentative exploration.

"YES! Pay up!" Eben shouted, throwing his arms in the air.

"That's really sweet, actually," Dakota commented.

They continued kissing; the awkward uncertainty of teenagers apparent as they both relied on each other for cues on how and when to move. Their syncopation could use some work, Ginny thought, and James couldn't quite figure out where to put his hands, resulting in his left one moving from her cheek, to neck, and back a few times over.

"I would have thought you'd have given him better technique than that, Ginny," Charlie teased. "With your reputation at school and all."

"And what boy wants to be instructed in kissing by his mother? That's Harry's or one of his uncle's job."

"I think we can definitely blame Ron, then."

Ginny laughed, then leaned over, grabbing the mirror, still showing the lip-locked teens, and the book. "I think that's enough of that," she said, carrying them over to a closet, stowing both away as the group shuffled toward the table—heckling each other about the pool and their own first kiss experiences.

When James burst through the door holding Imogen's hand several minutes later everyone fell silent. "What?" James asked. They all looked at one another and laughed, as though the gesture had been choreographed. "What?" James looked to Ginny.

"Nothing, love, you two just wash up for dinner," she said with a grin as chatter broke out.

The door opened again and Ginny expected to see Fritz coming back in. Instead, Peter was taking off his hat, greeting Mrs. Gertrude. Ginny grabbed a bowl of bread, taking it over to the table and finding a space between Ainsley and Charlie.

"Finally joining us for dinner?" Trenton asked him.

"I thought I might," he said, then looked over to Ginny. "As long as that's okay with everyone else."

Ginny was glad that no one seemed to catch the direction of the comment, all encouraging him to find a seat. He stepped over, offering to help Mrs. Gertrude with the last of her preparations.

Charlie leaned over, nudging Ginny. "It's okay," she said, and the rest of dinner continued uneventfully.

Fritz came back in when the rest of the crew was half finished with the meal. He made a valiant effort to sit right in between James and Imogen. "I have a spot for you here," Dakota intervened.

It wasn't until the post-meal lull set in that Peter cleared his throat. "With a few new developments, I have been meaning to hold a meeting."

He gained the room's attention immediately. "Are we finally going to solidify the plan?" Trenton asked, sounding both anxious and excited.

"Not quite," Peter answered. "I believe it would be beneficial to postpone. Maybe another month."

"Why?" Taylor asked. Ginny noticed Taylor's eyes were narrowed, her arms folded across her chest.

"For one, Grant and Colt have both said they want to help. Nellie may want to as well. Of course, they would need to be trained first. Also, my contact in the Law Department has been avoiding me. I don't believe he will turn on us, but it doesn't bode well."

Ginny continued watching Taylor, her eyes narrowing even though everyone else seemed satisfied, if disappointed, with Peter's summation.

"And you really think that's what's best for the people in the compound," Charlie asked.

"A month isn't going to make or break—"

"Except for those that snap and are killed while trying to get free."

Peter opened his mouth, closed it, and recomposed himself. "I will attempt to intercept those individuals where possible, Charlie, as I always have. But I'm not willing to put this group's lives at risk for an unforeseen possibility."

Charlie sat back, his comportment mirroring Taylor's.

"Now, while I think it would be excellent to use the time to learn more spells, the focus should be on catching Grant and Colt up with the rest of the group. If you aren't already comfortable on the brooms, you need to be. James, I believe you can help with this?"

It took every ounce of determination for Ginny not to say something. Her mind formed a dozen comments, but she just sat there as James said, "yeah, I can do that." James smiled at her and Ginny had to swallow back a scowl meant for Peter, to grin back. He was obviously pleased to be called out for a personal assignment.

"Alright, then I think if we keep working at this it won't be long," Peter said, satisfied. "Unless there are any questions?"

A general mumble indicated the end of the meeting without an official declaration. Ainsley and Eben started the clean up while everyone else migrated outside. Taylor caught Ginny's eye as she passed and Ginny stood, following her out to the lawn. "Tomorrow can you help me get the shield spell right?" Taylor asked. Her shield spell had been fine for at least a couple weeks now.

"Yes, absolutely," Ginny replied as they took the steps.

Taylor's voice lowered as they strolled the grass. "It makes no sense," she said.

"Do you think he's lying?"

"No," Taylor said. "I've seen him lie and that wasn't lying."

"When has he lied?" Ginny turned towards Taylor.

"Just out when talking to Godfrey's men," Taylor replied. "But even before you came, he was laying out the plan to happen before Christmas if he could figure out their security. You know, because Godfrey is likely on holiday. Smaller staff, too. I don't see the sense in changing it now."

Ginny nodded. "Maybe it is best to have extra people on our side."

Taylor shrugged and met Ginny's gaze. They both knew the other was skeptical, but that it was best to hold onto that fact for another day.

"Ginny!" She turned. Peter strode towards them. "Ginny, I wanted to talk about the training."

Taylor tilted her head, then turned and walked back to Mrs. Gertrude's. Ginny looked over Peter's shoulder, seeing Charlie's stalky figure on the back porch, leaning against the railings, watching them. So she stayed, standing tall. "So do you think you can divide your time between the new arrivals and everyone else alright?"

"If you're going for legitimate excuse to strike up a conversation, that was weak," Ginny replied.

Peter let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, so I wanted to clear the air about the other night." Ginny didn't move. "My timing was terrible, I know."

"Timing? You think your issue was timing?" Ginny started to walk past him and Peter reached out grabbing her wrist to stop her. She turned, glaring at him. He dropped her hand quickly, stepping back.

"Look, I'm not a bad guy—"

"No one said you were."

"—I was just a little tipsy and the night got away from me. I'm sorry if I scared you."

Ginny looked over to Charlie, who was still watching, waiting. Peter noticed the direction of her gaze. "Did you tell him?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell James?"

"Does it matter?"

Peter looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight between his feet. "I don't want him to know," he said. "I-I think it's best if he doesn't know."

"What's best for James isn't your concern," Ginny said. "And you will talk to me from now on before you dole out assignments to him."

"Absolutely," Peter nodded. "I just thought he'd like to run that training. Ginny please, just… just don't think less of me."

When Ginny turned and walked away, Peter didn't try to stop her this time.

Charlie didn't move until she was up the steps. "Did he—"

"We'll talk about it later," she said.

Ginny gave one last look back, seeing Peter pacing where she'd left him.


	9. The Worst Christmas

_**The Worst Christmas**_

Christmas with Harry and her children was a vision Ginny didn't even know she had until it was so abruptly taken away. She found herself scrambling to arrange presents, writing orders to shops on Diagon Alley and going out into Duwick to get a few extras, all the while fighting a desire to go into her room and sleep through the entire holiday.

"It's bizarre to see you with brown hair," Charlie said when she came back from one such outing.

Taking out her wand and looking in the mirror, Ginny tapped her hair, nose, and lips, returning her normal appearance. "I certainly don't feel like myself without the Weasley mane," she admitted.

"You got an owl from Beth while you were out," Charlie said, handing over a letter.

That was another issue with the postponement of the rescue mission. Ginny knew Ron was still feeding Updike a line of her traveling for work, yet she hadn't published in over five months. With the start of the season coming up, she'd written to Beth about any possible quick write-ups she could manage to get her name in print again. This letter was thicker than the last couple. "Thanks," she said, opening the seal. She scanned through the letter and shuffled through the accompanying papers—information so she could write a profile for a new Puddlemere United player. "I'll get on this at lunch."

"Also, I wanted to talk to you. We have three nesting Opaleye dragons in the clan that could be hatching anytime in the next week or so. I thought it might be a good opportunity to take James for a few days to see them, since Care of Magical Creatures is one class he's lacking practical experience this year," he said.

"That sounds great," Ginny said.

"Before you say yes, you should know the only time I could really take him out would be over Christmas."

Ginny felt a pang in her chest, but swallowed it down. "Well, that's fine."

"You could come with too," Charlie suggested.

"No," Ginny said. "I don't think it would be good for all three of us to leave for more than a day when Grant and Colt need training. Besides, I think it would be fun for James to do that on his own with you."

"There's also Peter to consider," Charlie added.

"It's no different than when you have to be at work," Ginny replied. "I can take care of myself. Besides, he's rarely here. You definitely should take James to see the dragons. Just… watch that he doesn't get too close."

Ginny stowed her load of shopping and the assignment from Beth away before going out back where the others zoomed low on their brooms. Even with the two yards, there wasn't the same space they had at home or the Burrow to soar around freely. This was in part to remain inconspicuous, though they had also decided it would be advantageous to ride close to the ground into the compound. The disillusionment charm they needed to conceal themselves was more effective against the landscape during the day, at the very least.

"Balance yourself out a little more, Trenton," James instructed. "Use your foot holds to ground yourself. Like this," he added, showing him the proper seat.

Overall, everyone had a decent handle on flying, though the techniques James taught them would get everyone from the field to the compound much faster. More than his potions tutelage and impromptu lectures, James seemed to truly love being on a broom and showing others what came second nature to him.

Ginny jumped backward as Imogen darted past, nearly crashing into her. "Sorry Ginny!" she called as she gripped tighter. "I'm trying to stop!" The broom wasn't compliant.

"Sit up instead of leaning forward," Ginny shouted after her.

Imogen did so, closing her eyes tightly as the broom came to a halt.

"There you go," Ginny added.

Taylor and Miles were both so adept that they were racing one another, taking laps back and forth across the length of the two properties, bashing broom-against-broom in an attempt to unseat one another. It wasn't the first time in the last few months that Ginny was struck with the thought of what these people might have been if Godfrey hadn't changed the course of their lives. Would Taylor have been a Quodpot player? Would Miles have been captain of a Quidditch team in school? Perhaps Dakota would have become a healer. She certainly had an interest to those spells when she borrowed James's books. Perhaps there were other paths—areas of magic they had not been exposed to—that would show their greatest abilities. They were all still young enough to catch up within a few years, but what had been stolen was still immeasurable.

Ginny went back inside, grabbing fresh parchment and the assignment from Beth. Writing felt strangely normal. She had started on an outline for the profile when James came inside. "Lunch is in a few," he said.

"I'll grab something in here, thanks." When she wrote, Ginny often skipped meals, not wanting to break the concentration and flow of information. "Your Uncle Charlie is going to take you to the dragon sanctuary for a few days around Christmas, by the way."

"No way!" James exclaimed, coming to sit by her. "Professor Hagrid will be _so_ jealous! Can Imogen come too?"

"I think it's just you," she said. He let out a groan. "It's a real opportunity to go, and I'm sure he will be happy to take her another time, but it's not a tourist location and you're enough of a handful. Besides, you know the others are at more risk leaving here than you."

"Okay," he conceded. "Will we be back for Christmas dinner at least?"

"That's up to Charlie, but it did sound like he anticipated a few days there."

"Well, I just… wanted to be here to give Imogen her present."

"Did you already pick something out?"

"No. Well, sort of. I was thinking of getting her a ring."

Ginny stopped, her quill going off the edge of the page as she looked at James. "That's a little—"

"Not like an engagement ring," he jumped in quickly. "Like… a promise ring… or something."

Ginny pressed her lips together, set down the quill and leaned forward. "And what is it you're promising?"

James flushed red, squirming in his chair. "I don't know, I just know that girls like jewelry, right? That's what a boyfriend is supposed to get... this was stupid, I shouldn't have told you—"

"James, James, wait," she put a hand on his arm as he tried to stand. "Yes, sometimes girls like jewelry, but you know that Fritz is already looking for reasons to be upset about the two of you seeing each other, and he might literally strangle you before you could even explain your intent. Has Imogen even hinted she wants jewelry?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, some girls love jewelry, but when you get someone a gift you should really think about them and what they like and want. Like you do for Al and Lily."

"But they're easy. I just need to send Al a new chess set and I already wrote to Uncle George about getting Lily a skiving snackbox," James slumped back.

"Okay, so let's think of something that Imogen might like to have. Something personal. Something that's not a ring."

James nodded. They talked, brainstorming back and forth for the better part of an hour so that by the end Ginny and James both thought they had come up with something that would be useful, but that Imogen would like. "Also, don't get your sister a skiving snackbox."

James rolled his eyes as he left.

The next week flew by in flying lessons and Charlie preparing James for their outing. Charlie wanted to leave early on Christmas Eve to relieve one of his co-workers. James went to Mrs. Gertrude's early, pulling Imogen back to their cottage at the break of dawn. "But I don't have anything for you," she said as James dragged her through the back door and into the kitchen.

"That's okay," he said. "I don't need anything but you." Charlie looked at Ginny with a raised eyebrow and she just shook her head.

The four of them sat around the small Christmas Tree Charlie bought a few days before, James handing Ginny and Imogen packages—Imogen's large and heavy, Ginny's small enough to fit in her hand. Ginny was sending James's gifts with Charlie for tomorrow and was surprised that he had something for her today.

She let Imogen go first. Opening the box, her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped. "My own cauldron?" she exclaimed.

"There's more," James said, looking over to Ginny as Imogen dug through the box. "The book and ingredients are from my mum."

Imogen was dumbstruck as she pulled out the first level potions book, a set of scales, and the basic set of ingredients.

"This is amazing," she said. "Now we can both make potions at the same time!"

"Your turn, Mum," James said.

Imogen opened her book, flipping through as Ginny unwrapped the small box. Inside sat an oval golden locket with a vial filled with a silvery substance hanging from the chain. "I know you already have a locket, but I had Uncle Charlie help me fill this one with our pictures," James explained. Ginny opened the locket where James, Lily, Albus, and Harry flashed in projected images, each smiling up at her before it shifted to another. "And Aunt Hermione helped me with the other bit. There's something she did to copy her memory of yours and dad's wedding. For your pensieve."

Ginny clutched a hand to her heart. "Thank you, James." She removed her old locket, taking off Harry's ring and putting it on the new chain. She turned to let James help her with the clasp.

Charlie and Ginny waited on the porch after they grabbed James's bag, watching as he and Imogen said goodbye on the lawn. "You'd think he was going off to war."

The two stood not far off, wrapped in each other, kissing and whispering. Imogen was tearing up. "In a sense they're already in a war, Charlie," she reminded him.

After another few minutes Charlie whistled. "Time to get going, James," he said, grabbing both his and James's bags, stepping down the porch steps. He leaned over and gave Ginny a kiss on the cheek. "We'll catch the bus on the street."

Ginny walked down to stand by Imogen, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as Charlie and James went out the side gate. James turned at the last moment, giving a final grin to Imogen. "Come on," Ginny said, squeezing Imogen's shoulder. "Let's get some breakfast."

Imogen nodded dolefully as they walked towards Mrs. Gertrude's.

Ginny filled the rest of the day with one task after another. She ran training for Colt and Grant. Nellie watched nearby, though she still looked fearfully at any wand placed in her hands. During meals and while the others decorated Mrs. Gertrude's house, Ginny set herself to writing two more profiles, starting on a third so that by the time she fell into bed, she drifted right to sleep.

* * *

Christmas morning Ginny covered her face with her hands, taking a deep, shuddering breath before turning to her other side, only to find herself staring into Harry's green eyes. Nose-to-nose with him, she froze, not daring to blink for fear he would disappear.

"Hello," Harry whispered, grinning easily at her.

"Hi." Ginny's word was breathless as she lay still.

"I've missed you."

Cautiously, she reached her hand out, stroking his cheek, tentatively running a stray lock of black hair, peppered with grey, between two fingers. Harry turned his head, kissing the inside of her wrist. "I've missed you, too," she said.

He wrapped a hand around her waist, pulling her into him, kissing her gently. "I've only thought of you, you know. And the kids. It's all that's on my mind."

Ginny pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes and breathing him in. "I'm sorry I was cross with you before."

"Shhhh," Harry said. "It's not time for apologies. The kids will be here soon enough, I think."

"They stayed at the school," Ginny said. "And James is with Charlie."

There was a distant knocking. "You better get that," Harry said.

Ginny turned to look towards the door, and when she turned back Harry was gone.

The knock grew louder as Ginny's eyes jerked open. It had been a dream. She looked beside her. Harry, of course, was not there. Yet the dream had been so real that she could still feel her lips tingling where Harry had kissed her. Could still feel the pressure of his hand on the small of her back. She covered her mouth, forcing herself to choke back a sob.

The knocking started at her door again. "Ginny? Ginny, you have to see what Peter did!"

It was Imogen's voice on the other side.

"I'll—" her voice cracked on the word. She stopped and cleared her throat. "I'll be right there."

She could hear Imogen's footsteps as she dashed away.

Taking a few deep, calming breaths, Ginny found her clothes from the day before, putting them on and making her way out back. She could see snow, falling steadily through the windows. Stepping onto the porch, she saw everyone else was awake, running through the snow as Peter held his wand up, directing continual drifts. The unexpected chill made Ginny cross her arms as she watched Miles, Trenton, and Leiza running after each other with powdery snowballs. Dakota and Fritz laid in snow angels they'd made, though the forms were ruined as Fritz now leaned over, arm around Dakota's waist, kissing her. Imogen and Leighton stood with their mouths wide open, tongues out, pointed skyward to catch the falling snowflakes. Even Nellie sat in a pile of snow, running a bare finger into the powder, creating patterns.

Running back inside, Ginny grabbed her wand and put on proper shoes quickly. She came out, finding Taylor, who was smiling on the sidelines. "Ready to learn some new spells?" Ginny asked.

Taylor pulled her wand out. "Always," she replied.

Ginny showed her how to make snowballs with a simple charm, and then how to make them fly at the three already engaged in a snowball fight. One of Taylor's stray snowballs hit the side of Fritz's face, who cursed in German and stood, pulling his own wand out.

Fritz cycled through a handful of spells he knew as Ginny and Taylor continued to dominate, the others all still making snowballs by hand to counter their attack. Finally, pointing his wand to the snow in front of him, Fritz shouted, " _Protego!"_ A wave of snow lifted and hit Taylor and Ginny mildly.

Adding him to their attacks, everyone else seemed to catch onto what Fritz had done and they soon had half a dozen people shouting _Protego_ to the snow, wave after wave piling up on them until Ginny finally screamed. "Truce! Truce!"

A few more waves and they finally obliged. Ginny looked over to where Taylor was laughing, her dark hair coated in a glittering layer of snow. "Help me out," Ginny said and the two tried desperately to untangle one another from the snow that had packed around their ankles. Falling back in, Ginny's side hurt for laughing until she caught Peter's eye. He was watching her, smiling with the sort of intent that made her feel exposed.

She sobered, standing and remembering that she couldn't let her guard down. Not even on Christmas.

Over the next hour, people abandoned the snow patch one-by-one. Peter finally stopped keeping it neat, allowing the sun to melt their morning fun away. Ginny went back in, changed into dry clothes and examined a pile of presents and notes; mostly from her family, though Neville and Hannah had sent a box of chocolates, with a note of well wishes and promises that they were going to make Christmas fun for Albus and Lily. Her mother had sent her both her own sweater as well as Harry's this year. "Just in case," the attached note said. Ginny put this one high in the closet, still folded neatly.

The rest of the day Ginny distracted herself by insisting on helping with the large Christmas dinner Mrs. Gertrude had planned. In the evening, after eating, everyone found their own places scattered around the first floor of Mrs. Gertrude's home. Imogen brought out her cauldron, setting it on the kitchen table. Ginny lit a contained flame as Imogen picked a potion from her book to try. Several of the others sat around, playing with a deck of cards James had given to Miles, watching as with each card someone's nose became a pig snout, found themselves with cat ears, or, as Leighton experienced, the ability to only speak in croaks. Peter stayed near them, looking on with a glass of wine and laughing.

Ginny looked to Imogen as she added crushed beetles to the potion. Rather than grabbing the handle of the spoon, Imogen held her hand palm down six inches above the cauldron. She moved her hand slowly clockwise and the spoon followed.

"How are you doing that?" Ginny asked.

Imogen looked up, going instantly pink. "Sorry, I know I'm not supposed to," she said, grabbing the handle to continue.

Ginny sat across from her at the table. "No, show me," she requested. Imogen looked unsure, but leaned the spoon against the cauldron's edge and started doing it again. It was controlled, deliberate, and—still astonishing to Ginny—wandless. "Did I ever explain to you why you needed to use a wand?"

"So that the spells are directed correctly," she said.

"Yes," Ginny said, thinking. "Yes, and that's true. But most wizards and witches also lose their abilities to do magic without a wand as they get older. Even though you're born able to do magic, adults need conduits, which is why we use wands. In extreme situations they might be able to do protective spells instinctively, though they're erratic. But by your age, you shouldn't be able to do that." She pointed at the spoon.

Imogen bit her bottom lip, like she wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing. "I can just… feel it."

"What do you mean?"

"I can feel it... the spoon... under my hand. The liquid too, but I just … pull on the spoon so only that moves." She reached over and grabbed Ginny's hand, placing it over the cauldron and spreading out Ginny's fingers. "Can't you feel it? Right in the middle of your hand?"

Ginny waited for a minute, trying to see what she meant, then shook her head.

Imogen sighed. "James said he can't either," she looked down at the book.

As Imogen read the next instruction, Fritz and Dakota burst into the kitchen, radiant smiles plastered across their faces. "We have an announcement," Fritz said, his German accent stronger than Ginny had ever heard it. His sandy blond hair was untidy and Dakota's cheeks were perfectly blushed. "I asked Dakota to marry me and she said yes!"

The men in the room perked up happily, but it wasn't anything compared to most of the young women, who created an unified, ear-piercing squeal, jumping up to crowd the two of them, begging to see the ring.

"It's nothing fancy," Fritz admitted. "My grandfather tried to teach me when I was very young to carve and Peter helped me get the tools."

"It's perfect," Dakota said, kissing his cheek. Ginny could see it as Leiza and Leighton grabbed her hand. It was made of of a dark wood—wide with a pattern of soft, overlapping waves carved into its edges. Ginny got closer, seeing that the waves weren't perfectly spaced, but had been created with care.

"It's too big," Fritz said.

"Here," Ginny reached into the circle with her wand and touched the ring. It adjusted itself, fitting to Dakota's finger perfectly. "That's one that comes in handy if you're ever pregnant," she said.

Dakota smiled her thanks, the glint of hope for life in her eyes leaving Ginny feeling suddenly empty. It was like every moment not filled with distraction from the last two days hit like a hex to the chest. The dream of Harry, the memory of their own wedding hanging around her neck, the folded sweater in the closet, and the wedding band that should be on Harry's finger seemed to crush her from every side.

Peter was parting the crowd and Ginny weaved towards the back, making her way to the door and squeezed through. Quietly shutting it behind her amid the cacophony of congratulations, Ginny ran across the lawn back to her cottage.

Her first thought was to get some more writing done; take out the third article she had started the night before and focus on Quidditch and work. As she paced restlessly in the kitchen trying to work herself up to this, she realized it wasn't going to be productive.

Instead, she went to the mirror. She wanted a drink, but she probably shouldn't go out look how she usually did, she decided. Touching wand to hair, Ginny watched it shorten and brighten to a blonde almost as light as Imogen's. Her eyes became hooded and her nose widened. Her freckles stayed (that was one feature she never seemed able to alter), but as she examined herself, she felt she looked different enough before heading out the door.

It was already dark, so she didn't want to go far. Though she'd never entered, she knew around the corner was a larger pub. The nearly empty space reminded her, yet again, that it was Christmas. "Glass of mead, please," she ordered, then found a space in a dark corner to sit in.

It struck Ginny almost immediately how much more appropriate this setting was for her mood. She was glad she hadn't stayed, putting a damper on Fritz and Dakota's announcement. Morose music played in the background and Ginny stared into her mug, wiping the dew off the edge of the glass with her thumb as she tried to remember the details of her dream with Harry. Even though she knew it was in her mind, it was more real than anything she'd experienced in the pensieve over the last few months. She closed her eyes, willing her mind to conjure the experience again. Maybe if she thought hard enough about it, she could see Harry again tonight.

"Hello there, Rabe," a man said, approaching the bar. His Australian accent was more gruff than Imogen, Dakota, or even Peter's Australian lilt. It was harsh and loud, and it pulled Ginny from her daydreaming. "I've heard you've been writing letters to the ministry about me."

The bartender paled in the dim light. The man turned as he pulled up a stool under him and Ginny recognized him from the pictures Peter had gathered and shown the group. Dark, thinning hair was set off by a thick beard. His wide frame was imposing, and he was taller than Ginny had thought. It was Leonard Godfrey. Ginny drew her wand and moved slowly through the shadows of the pub, as the bartender stammered, looking to the door behind him.

"Your family is home then?" Godfrey asked him. "Good, good. I have been meaning to introduce myself. And, good news mate, I have a new Christmas present to test out."

"Look, I'll retract it," the bartender said.

"Oh, but that's no fun." Godfrey rolled up the sleeve to his right arm, flexing his fingers. "I've had my brother working on this one for ages. Now let's see," he said. "Ah, yes—" His fingers stretched and a flash of orange shot from his palm. The bartender ducked and the flash hit a bottle right behind where his head had just been, shattering the glass. Two other patrons, who had been inching towards the exit, ran out into the street. Godfrey ignored them.

The bartender scrambled towards the end of the bar, stopping short as Godfrey pointed a finger towards him. "Not done with you yet," he said and the bartender was lifted, legs kicking helplessly in the air.

Instinctively, Ginny threw a jinx towards Godfrey. It was aimed for the middle of his back, but inches from hitting its mark, it repelled, expanding into one large field of white that bounced right back at Ginny. Before she could react it threw her against the wall behind her and down to the ground. She gasped for breath, feeling the sharp pain in her ribs. Her hair hung around her face, once again long and red.

"Did you hire some security, Rabe?" Godfrey asked. He hadn't even looked back as Ginny groped around for her wand, getting to her knees.

"No! No! I swear," Rabe said. "…tourist…out-of-town…"

Godfrey threw Rabe back to where he had initially stood causing a loud crash of bottles and body, liquid flowing from the shelves.

Ginny could see Godfrey turning from between the legs of tables and chairs. She was trying to raise herself, prepare for his next move when a crash sounded from above. The rafters of the pub cracked, starting to fall. Ginny covered her head as dust and debris fell, then an arm was gripping hers. "Move!" Taylor commanded in a hiss.

Ginny stumbled after her, letting the pull on her arm press her forward and out onto the dark street. "What were you thinking?" Taylor demanded as she pulled Ginny into the nearest alcove. "I don't know how to do the disillusionment right, can you manage?" Ginny could already hear the scuffle from the direction of the pub.

Holding her side, Ginny nodded, pulling out her wand and performing the charm on Taylor first, then herself, collapsing against the wall. She felt Taylor crouch in front of her, one arm blocking Ginny as Godfrey pushed the bartender in front of him out of the pub. "Where did your patron run off to Rabe?" Godfrey's booming voice echoed in the street. Rabe's words were indecipherable, but Ginny could see Godfrey push him back towards the door of the pub. "I suppose for now you've had punishment enough. Get your place back together and if I hear of you talking to anyone at the ministry again, I'll come back."

Rabe stood at the entrance of his pub, looking over his shoulder, and slumping against the door frame.

"Let's go," Taylor said after Godfrey was well down the street. She felt around, finding Ginny's arms and helping her stand. She allowed Ginny to wrap and arm around her shoulder, supporting her as she limped back to the house.

"How did you know I was there?"

"Charlie asked me to keep an eye on you while he was gone," she said. "He was worried you'd do something stupid. Guess he was right. Don't you remember, Godfrey has protection against magic?"

"Didn't you see though?" Ginny asked. "He doesn't just have protection from it anymore… he can use it."

Taylor paused. "How?"

"I don't know." She groaned as a wave of pain in her side increased.

"Almost there," Taylor said.

They entered the dark cottage, Taylor lighting her wand and guiding Ginny into her bed. Ginny told her how to do the counter charm and she made both of them visible again. "I think that's twice I owe you now, Taylor."

"You can remember that when we've got Harry back and are deciding who gets him on what nights of the week."

Ginny gave a half-hearted laugh, wincing as a result. "Do me a favor, no jokes right now."

"I'm going to get someone who can fix you up." Taylor tucked a pillow under the side that Ginny held.

"Not Peter," Ginny said.

"I know," Taylor replied as she walked out the door.


	10. Ticking Clocks

_**Ticking Clocks**_

Ginny couldn't have imagined how good she would feel as she woke on Boxing Day. She was certain she hadn't slept that soundly since the evening she sat Harry down and said the life altering words, "we're having a baby." Taylor had brought back Mrs. Gertrude, who had an uncanny resemblance to Madam Pomfrey in the way she gave orders while healing. "Two ribs broken and another bruised! What in the name of Merlin's beard were you doing?" she asked, appalled.

"Just a typical bar room brawl," Ginny said.

"Brawl?"

"She had a run in with Godfrey," Taylor clarified.

Mrs. Gertrude paled and worked quietly. Her daughter and son-in-law had been killed nearly five years before when they tried to make a stand against Godfrey, though no one could prove his involvement in their deaths. Her house became the headquarters and safe haven of the resistance shortly after, but she never talked about this connection. She was the quiet caretaker, arranging the constant expansion of rooms in the basement of her home for anyone who cared to stay. "Drink this," she told Ginny. "Every last drop. And I'm leaving Taylor with some that you _must_ drink in the morning."

The potion was sugary-sweet and Ginny paused twice while drinking, as it coated her throat to the point she couldn't swallow. "And you need to sleep as long as possible."

Ginny looked at the clock on the opposite wall. It was just past nine. It felt later than that, but she was far too alert to go back to sleep now.

"I said no," Taylor's voice came firmly, articulating every syllable. "She's sleeping."

"Taylor, if you don't move—"

"If _you_ don't back off I'll be talking with Charlie," she cut Peter off.

There was a moment of silence. Ginny pushed herself up. "Don't you threaten me," Peter growled before his voice dipped low enough that Ginny couldn't hear what followed.

She pulled a bathrobe off a hanger and tied it as she left her room. She could see Taylor and Peter at the end of the hallway, Taylor's back towards her in a sentinel position with Peter's tight, reddened face close to hers. He stopped abruptly as he noticed Ginny. His expression softened. "Ginny," he said. "I just found out about last night."

Ginny pulled her hair back and out of her face. "Yes, well I'm doing great now, thanks," she said. She walked down the hall and Peter continued watching her.

"Your potion's on the counter," Taylor said. She stepped back to let Ginny through and then followed her into the kitchen, keeping herself between Ginny and Peter.

"I don't know if I need it. Really, I feel quite well." Ginny rifled through the cabinets, pulling down some tea and grabbing the kettle.

"Yeah, well I don't feel like a lecture later, so just drink it," Taylor said.

Ginny sighed as she started the water heating on the stove and turned to the potion waiting for her.

"Ginny, I should have been there for you," Peter spilled out quickly.

"I wanted to get a drink and be alone," Ginny said pointedly. "So I hardly expected anyone to be there. Though you should know that Godfrey has found a way to do magic."

"You mean Liam? He hasn't been seen in public for ages."

"No," Ginny said. "Leonard."

"That's impossible," Peter said. "You must have been seeing—"

"I wasn't seeing things. He was bragging about it and then used it against the bartender. Seems it's a new development. He called it a Christmas present." She threw back the potion, but started having the same problems as the night before.

"But… how?"

"He showed him something in his right hand, but I didn't see what it was."

"Oh," Peter said. His eyes shifted as he took in this new information.

"If we'd taken care of the compound a couple weeks ago I guess we could've avoided this complication," Taylor said, glaring at Peter.

Color rose in his cheeks. "I certainly can't make decisions based on information we're going to have weeks in the future," he snapped back.

Taylor opened her mouth to respond before Ginny reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "The point is that at least one thing came out of last night. Take it for what it's worth," Ginny said, then stepped over to the whistling kettle.

"Right." Peter came to himself again. "I was thinking I could make you some breakfast. Er, Taylor too, if she hasn't eaten."

"I'm actually in the mood to cook myself, but if you could let Grant and Colt know I'll be ready for them in an hour—"

"You should rest, Ginny, I don't want you to—"

"I'll be ready in an hour." Ginny's eyes met Peter's, challenging whatever he might say next. Peter finally huffed out a breath and walked out the back door. "Well then," Ginny took on a chipper tone, "pancakes?"

"Yes," Taylor settled into a chair at the table. "I'm starving!"

Apparently everyone had been told about Ginny's excursion. When she went to find Grant and Colt she was bombarded with questions and concerns from every side. "Mrs. Gertrude must be great at healing," Dakota said in awe when Ginny again reassured everyone that she was, by all standards, as good or better than she was before going out for a drink.

"They weren't magical wounds, dear," Mrs. Gertrude said as she pulled a loaf of fresh bread from the oven. "It's much simpler work. You did take the potion again, right?"

"Yes," Ginny said.

"Good, I included juice from Kangaroo Apples in there. Specialty of mine. I find that always speeds healing. I may give you some more tonight, just for good measure."

"There's something I don't get, though," Miles said. "If your jinx bounced back, how were you not hurt by magic?"

Ginny had been thinking about this as well. "When it hit me it dispelled all the transfigurations I had performed," she said. "It was more like… anti-magic."

"You don't think others on the compound can make that happen, do you?" Leiza asked.

Taylor answered this question. "Do you think Godfrey cares about anyone's safety but his own? It's doubtful."

Not everyone seemed reassured by this sentiment, but Ginny knew she had work to do, finding Grant and Colt and taking them outside to start on their lesson. Taylor stuck by Ginny the rest of the day, finding reasons to help with any given task. As night fell, Taylor even hung out in the living room, reading a textbook, as Ginny wrote. Charlie and James didn't come back until nearly ten o'clock.

"It was wicked!" James said. "One of the eggs hatched, and the baby dragon looked like it was made of pearls."

"He lucked out," Charlie said. "Opaleyes are particularly trainable, but the one that hatched was the egg of our tamest dragon. She even laid there, letting James get close enough to pet her baby. Don't look at me like that, I wouldn't have let him do it if it wasn't perfectly safe."

"And then Uncle Charlie took me to a nearby reservation for all sorts of other local magical creatures. I can't wait to write an essay for Professor Hagrid!"

"Well, if that isn't an even better outcome than I expected," said Ginny. "Now, go get your clothes in the wash."

"Can't I go see Imogen first? I have to thank Peter, too. He gave me a brilliant pocket-knife for Christmas. It has a whole set of magical lock picks!"

Ginny took a second to recover. "W-well, Peter may have gone back to his own house by now, but I suppose. Just make it quick. It's late and I don't want you keeping everyone up." He ran off. "Door!" Ginny shouted, but it slammed behind him as usual. She opened James's bag, pulling out the articles of clothing to sort. "So you didn't have any trouble with him, then?"

"You need to tell James," Charlie said, ignoring Ginny's question.

She stopped. "Tell James what?"

"You know what," Charlie said. "You need to tell him about Peter."

Ginny felt her face go red. "He doesn't need to get involved in that."

"God, Ginny, I know you are not this naïve!" Charlie pointed out the window. "He can't get to you directly, so he's trying to manipulate you by winning over your son!"

"I have it under control."

"No, you don't."

Ginny picked up a stack of clothes in each hand, scowling at Charlie and stepped by him towards the laundry basket in the hall. "Do you really need to do this in front of Taylor? Wasn't it enough for you to tell her about my personal business?"

"What are you talking about? She already knew. I thought you told her."

"Like I needed anyone telling me," Taylor scoffed, laying out on the couch. "It's pretty obvious."

Ginny looked at her, waiting for a further explanation.

"Peter was all geared up to make a plan, then at the same time the you two get stiff around each other, he finds excuses to hold off on infiltrating. It seemed damn irrational until I realized he was trying to buy more time with you, Ginny. Of course Charlie asking me to keep an eye on you kind of confirmed my suspicions about that." She turned towards Charlie. "To be fair to Peter, he probably wouldn't have been a problem this time around if Ginny hadn't broken her ribs."

Charlie's eye widened. "We were gone three days! How did you—"

"That is a long story, and beside the point," Ginny cut him off, turning back to Taylor. "And the others know, too?"

"I don't think so," Taylor picked up a nearby magazine, flipping through casually. "They all believe what he says and Peter's fine until you aren't doing what he wants you to do. Like this morning. He's pissy with me because I'm not buying his crap, and he knows it."

"What happened this morning, Ginny?" Charlie's tone was dangerously like their mother's.

She let out a breath. "There was an incident at a pub last night involving Godfrey. I ended up a little worse for wear. As you can see I'm fine now, but Peter used it as an excuse to try and help me out this morning. Taylor all but kicked him out. And I certainly wasn't welcoming."

"I _knew_ I should have taken you with us," he muttered. "Is there anything else I should know about?"

"No," Ginny said. "He's been keeping his distance."

"Except from James." There was a moment of silence. "You need to tell him," this time Charlie's voice was low and demanding.

"I'll think about it."

"Ginny—"

"Charlie, he is sixteen and has been through enough already with his father disappearing. I don't see how adding this onto his plate is going to do _anything_ but upset him unnecessarily."

"Fine," Charlie said sharply. "But when this whole thing blows up in your face—letting James be a pawn in his twisted game—don't look to me for sympathy."

He snatched up his own bag and stormed up the stairs to his room.

Taylor didn't look up, eyes scanning the page in front of her. "He's probably right."

Ginny turned her scowl on Taylor.

Over the next three weeks, Ginny teetered back and forth on the issue. When Peter was here, he seemed to find excuses to sit next to James, patting him on the back, having conversations with him, and giving him special attention. Ginny felt like an angry Veela, certain she'd see molting feathers as nails dug into palms while watching Peter with a hand on James's shoulder and an encouraging smile. Usually she would situate herself to be in Peter's line of vision, giving a warning glance and he would make an exit. Sometimes she'd find reasons to call James away—chores and assignments.

At least a dozen times she was determined to tell James. Then Peter would leave, and James was happy, and her stomach would twist so thoroughly that she simply lost the words. Charlie was terse with her when he was home and witnessing these moments, but as long as the topic didn't come up, they were back on reasonably good terms.

Mostly they talked about plans, as Peter all but halted discussion of how to get into the compound. Taylor, Charlie, and Ginny found themselves huddled around the coffee table late at night.

"So, three groups. And how many can do disillusionment charms now?" Charlie asked.

"Everyone except Colt, Grant, Leiza, and Trenton," Ginny said. "And Imogen still has trouble with it, but she won't be there, of course."

"When we get to the compound, those will have to be lifted so we don't unintentionally attack one another and know when the group has made it to the control room."

"There's a safe area just behind the general cafeteria," Taylor suggested. "Group one and two can uncover there."

"And what about the south side?" Charlie asked.

Taylor's eyes scanned the map she had copied from Peter's papers, a hand pressed on either side of her face, concentrating. "The storage," she said. "Even if there's surveillance, it's gotta be less guarded."

Charlie considered this, nodding. "For now that should work. So, third group goes to south of the storage. Then we attack the main square from both sides. The south group should stay pretty open, but from the north—" he made a mark on the map with his wand "—the first team needs to concentrate on getting into the control room here while the second group covers them. Once we have control of everyone in the square, we can release them from the Imperius Curse and eliminate that source of problems."

Ginny rubbed her eyes. It was nearly one in the morning, since they waited until everyone else was asleep before the discussion could start. These conversations always made her anxious as well; wanting to just get to it and go find Harry. "What do you think the chances are that the others are going to follow us on this if Peter resists?"

"Eben was miffed. He's got a wife back there and believes their relationship was real," Taylor said. "So he's ready for any signal. Ainsley has a brother and, I think, a little niece, which makes her easy to sway. Fritz and Dakota, I'm not sure on."

Peter was now their main roadblock: whether the others would follow through on a plan without him, whether he was withholding information, and to what extent he would stall them. He was still their main source of intel and nothing would change that at this point. And before they broached the topic with him, they wanted irrefutable evidence that action had to be taken immediately. Ginny had been hopeful they had such evidence when Ron sent an owl two days before.

When the letter arrived, she opened the seal only to find two words in Ron's scrawl:

 _Harry's tattoo_

Confused, Ginny tried to decipher it, trying to remember their conversation in Hogsmeade. Did this have to do with the tattoo on Taylor's arm? But other than finding Taylor, what did that have to do with Harry? No, this was more personal. Why would he be so short, even in a cryptic message?

Then she realized: this was a passcode, not the message. She took out her wand, thinking back to school, Romilda Vane, and a running personal joke. She wrote with her wand tip: _Hungarian Horntail_. The ink dissolved, reappearing as a page long letter.

As Ron had reached out to other law enforcement departments in Europe and North America, he created a network of investigators. They had found over a dozen agents who worked for Godfrey, though no arrests had been made. Ron made clear that everything needed to happen as one—the plan was when one arrest was made, they would all be made to leave no time for Godfrey to clean up after himself. Ideally, their own attack on the compound would align, though Ron emphasized it needed to happen prior to the arrests at the very least. Updike had yet to be pinned down, but Ron assured Ginny they were close.

"We just have to make them see reason," Taylor said with a shrug. Ginny knew that probably included telling everyone the details of Peter's actions concerning her.

* * *

Ginny was editing a final draft of an article to send Beth the third week of January when James burst in through the back, soaking wet from the rain. "Make sure you dry yourself before you go on the carpet," she said, not looking up.

"Mum, Peter said he can get tickets this weekend for the _Magic Music Festival_ in Sydney! _The Hobgoblins_ are opening, _The-Band-That-Must-Not-Be-Named_ will be there, and loads of other musicians too… can I go?"

"I thought you were with Imogen?" Ginny asked, irritated that Peter managed to get James on his own without her knowing.

"I was," James said. "He came in, told the two of us he can get a few tickets from work."

"He's going to take Imogen?" Just a week before she and Charlie approached Peter again with a case for sending Imogen to Hogwarts when James went back. He emphatically insisted that for her safety she should remain here until Godfrey wasn't an issue, but now he was willing to risk taking her to a local magic community festival?

"He said if I wanted to go he would find a way to disguise her," James said. "So can I go?"

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head, and looking back at the papers in front of her.

"But, Mum—"

"No," she repeated. "Absolutely not."

James looked hurt and confused. "But… Peter said he could make sure it was safe—"

Ginny looked back up. "I said no. I don't care how safe he thinks he can make it, you aren't going."

"Can't you just talk to Peter first?"

"No." She could feel every moment of anger she had pent up for Peter bubbling in the pit of her stomach and she found it nearly impossible to stop the steam as it built up quickly. "Besides, you need to start thinking about the fact that you have exams in less than six months. Your classmates are probably already spending every spare moment studying and you're in for a rude awakening in six weeks when you go back if you don't start—"

"Go back?" James said, distress layered into his tone. "I can't go back now," he said.

"That was part of the agreement. Number two: you go back in March."

"But that was before Imogen. You can't mean it."

"I do," Ginny pushed aside her writing and stood. "There was no caveat to that condition when you agreed to it. Imogen will still be here for you, but you're going back."

"That's not fair!"

The front door opened and Charlie stepped in. "It's raining kneazles and grims out there right now," he said, walking through the hall. He stopped as he saw James and Ginny staring each other down. "What's going on?"

"Mum is being completely insane!" James shouted. "She's going to make me go back to Hogwarts still! But otherwise, she won't even let me out of the damn house!"

"Woah, hold on," Charlie said, his eyebrows knit. "Can you back up and remind me when you were put under house arrest?"

Charlie's sarcasm only riled James more. "Don't twist my words," he spat at Charlie, then turned back to Ginny. "I've done everything you said and done all my school work. Who cares if I do it here or there?"

"I do! I'm sure most people would think me insane for letting you come in the first place! You belong in school!"

"You don't trust me!"

"James, that's not what she's saying," Charlie tried to intervene again.

"I always have to convince you to let me help! At least Peter sees that I'm useful."

James turned to walk out, but Charlie caught his arm. "Have respect for your mum," he said.

James jerked his arm out of Charlie's grasp and glared once more at Ginny before opening the back door and stalking off.

Charlie looked to Ginny, raising his eyebrows. "I told him he couldn't go to a festival Peter invited him to and it… escalated." His face filled with understanding as he pressed his lips together and nodded, arms folded across his chest. His entire demeanor needled at Ginny even more. "I don't want to hear it." She grabbed her papers.

"I didn't say anything."

Ginny went into her room, spread out her papers on the bed, and tried getting back to work. An hour in and she had made no more progress, having crossed out half of the article, frustrated with every word. Irritation rimmed every thought—irritation that James thought she didn't mean what she had said, irritation at Charlie's smug, knowing look, and, most of all, irritation at Peter for putting her in a position to have a row with James. It worried her, too, that he seemed to be getting cavalier when it came to Imogen's safety… and over what? What was the endgame? Did he know that Ginny would say no and it would be a moot point? Or was Peter legitimately trying to spend more time with James and to hell with precaution if he could make it happen?

 _"_ _He reminds me of my own son,"_ he had told her.

But James wasn't his son. Ginny violently crossed out yet another line when her bedroom door creaked open. She looked up. James stood there, the fight out of him, eyes red and wet. Ginny thought for a moment of Imogen, over in Mrs. Gertrude's house, wondering if the two had commiserated together on their terrible, impending seperation. He looked up, then back down, and walked over, crawling beside her on the bed. Neither of them said anything as James laid his head on Ginny's shoulder and she reached up, running her fingers through his messy hair.

"I'm sorry I yelled," Ginny said.

"Me too," James replied. "But Mum… I don't want to go back without her."

"I know, love." Once again she almost told him about Peter—right now, before this could go any further—but instead she sat with James in silence, both of them knowing that the issue of James's return to school was likely to come up again.

* * *

Peter hadn't been around for two days. Not since his offer to take James and Imogen to Sydney and Ginny's decision to talk to him more plainly concerning James. Then, she thought, she would tell James. She just had to figure out how much he needed to know.

Nearly everyone was in their living room, all furniture pushed back as they practiced disillusionment charms. "Close," Ginny said to Colt. "Keep your wrist a little straighter on this one."

James and Imogen had paired up. Imogen still struggled with this charm so that James was invisible except for his arms, which reached out, picking Imogen up and swinging her around, creating a strange tableau.

"Careful!" Fritz yelled as James bumped back into him.

"Sorry," James said, removing his disillusionment. "I'm sorry."

"That was good, Imogen," Ginny said. "Can you try it again, but without a wand?" Ginny had been in correspondence with McGonagall since Christmas. Even she had never met a witch or wizard who could perform wandlessly. She was insistent that Ginny help Imogen develop this ability and arrange a meeting with McGonagall when possible. Imogen, who had already been quite capable, flourished under this new method.

She placed a hand over James and all but his right hand disappeared. Ginny nodded her approval. "A little more concentration," she said, moving to find someone else to help.

Charlie sat beside Nellie in the kitchen, talking with her quietly. She still wasn't ready to do magic. Nellie never talked about what she had been through, but Ginny suspected it was traumatic enough that Nellie would likely live out the rest of her life as a muggle. The problem was that Colt continued to pressure her to be part of their efforts. Even if she decided today to do so, the chances of her being ready were slim. Hopefully Charlie was talking with her about other ways that she could be of help.

Ginny adjusted Leiza's hand hold as the door opened. Silence rippled across the room and Ginny turned, seeing Peter, his shoulders slumped and his face filled with sad determination. His mood settled over the group as everyone turned to him. The couple times he'd looked like this, it meant bad news. Terrible news.

James stood nearest Peter, Imogen right behind him. "Who is it this time?" Leighton asked breathlessly.

Peter and Ginny made eye contact, but instead he turned toward James, gripping his shoulders. Ginny's hands balled into fists as she refrained from stepping over and ripping his hands off her son.

"There was some tip off they had about your dad's contacts closing in," Peter said. There was a pounding in Ginny's temple. "I'm sorry, son, but your dad... they killed him."

James, shaking his head, pushed past Peter, ripping his hand from Imogen's and dashed through the back door. "James!" Charlie called, following closely behind.

"Oh, Ginny," Ainsley stepped over and wrapped an arm around Ginny's shoulders.

Ginny looked at Peter, though. He met her gaze, eyes full of sympathy and hope. He didn't move, but there was a daring that made Ginny sick. Tears were spilling down her cheeks. She wiped at them and went towards the back door as well. Peter reached out a hand to her back and she shrugged it off violently as she opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

James and Charlie were by the tree. The one where James often stood with Imogen in his arms, swaying. James's head was bent, his hands covering his face, and Charlie held his arms, speaking to him. Ginny couldn't be strong for him in this moment, so she leaned against the porch railing, quietly sobbing. After everything Harry had done, after Voldemort and the horcruxes and decades of fighting dark wizards, all it took was an ambitious, money-hungry muggle. How was that possible?

Ginny was gaining control of herself when Taylor stepped out on the porch, closing the door quietly behind her. She didn't look at Ginny as she sat on the railing on the opposite side of the small space. She looked out at James and Charlie, the latter of whom was now hugging James, patting his back as he talked into his ear.

"My grandma was terrible," Taylor said after a pause. "Emily was only two when we first went, but whenever she cried or misbehaved Grandma would force her to drink this potion and kept her quiet and still—like… catatonic. So I tried to keep her happy so Grandma wouldn't give it to her. She told me my dad couldn't stand me, that's why he left. She told me that no one loved me. I had this aunt—my mom's sister—that I was sure would come and save us, but she never did, so eventually I had to believe my grandma about that.

"When she died a couple years later, I heard someone talking about foster care and adoption, but I knew I wouldn't be with Emily. This woman told me I could meet her at this corner in Boston and we could stay together... and that's how we ended up in the compound."

"Why are you telling me this now?" Ginny asked, looking at her.

Taylor shrugged. "If we're going to share a husband, I think it's about time we got to know each other."

Taylor looked into the window, then stepped over and pulled Ginny into a tight hug. Taylor adjusted herself so she was whispering directly into Ginny's ear. "He's lying. Don't trust him."

Ginny's breath caught at the thought. "Are you sure?" she whispered back.

Rather than answer, Taylor pulled away, holding Ginny at arm's length and gave an almost imperceptible nod before turning and going back into the house.

Ginny knew immediately how to check what Taylor was saying, but she had to wait. It was at least an hour before she got back into her room alone. She first went over to James and Charlie. James threw himself into Ginny's arms, his sobbing renewed as she held onto him. While all these months he'd seemed considerably older, in this moment he reverted to the child she knew he still was.

"He can't be gone, Mum, he can't," he kept saying and Ginny wished she could give him the same hope Taylor had passed to her, but she had to know before telling him. She couldn't make this a rollercoaster ride for James if Taylor was wrong.

Then there was everyone still in the cottage. No one had moved when the three of them came back inside. Imogen's cheeks were tear stained as she stepped back into James's arms. Others were waiting to offer help and condolences. Taylor was the only one who looked both sad and angry.

Eventually Miles suggested they move practice to the lawn, giving Ginny, James, and Charlie a little time alone, and everyone silently agreed, putting the room right as they left. Charlie and James sat on the couch talking as Ginny excused herself to her room. She pulled out the clock, wrapped up and tucked away under her bed. She took a few deep breaths, steeling herself for the worst, but as she pulled away the wrappings, she could see that Harry's hand on the clock was steady—still trained on Mortal Peril, but he was alive.

Ginny packed the clock away again, checking for surveillance charms as she walked out again. A month ago, she would have never suspected Peter would listen to or watch private conversations in her home, but she also wouldn't have suspected Peter to lie about Harry either. As soon as she entered the living room, she walked around, making sure all windows were covered and casting silencing charms on the curtains as an extra measure

"Ginny, what are you doing?" Charlie asked.

She pulled up a chair, her knees right up against theirs. "Harry's alive," she whispered.

Charlie looked concerned, James confused. "Ginny, I know this is hard—"

"I'm not in denial Charlie. Taylor said Peter was lying and she was right."

"How do you know?" James asked.

"I have a clock." Ginny looked to Charlie. "One like Mum's. I hadn't told anyone about it, so Peter doesn't know."

Charlie swore, slamming a fist onto the arm of the couch in frustration.

"B-but… maybe he's just got bad information. Why would he lie?" James asked.

Ginny was quiet, shaking her head side to side. "If you don't tell him I will," Charlie said firmly.

She couldn't meet Charlie's or James's gaze, but she told him. Leaving out the kiss, she explained Peter's behavior since the night in the desert, how he wanted to take Harry's place in the family, and that, perhaps, this was his way of making Ginny think through what he said about imagining a life without Harry.

"He's off his trolley," James said. "Why didn't you tell me?" His question was an accusation and reprimand rolled in one. Ginny couldn't look at him as tears of guilt stung her eyes.

"Your mum didn't think he was capable of this," Charlie said, reaching out and grabbing her hand. "She didn't want to upset you." He squeezed and she felt more gratitude for Charlie in the moment than she'd felt in her entire life.

"We need to tell him we know what he's up to!"

"We can't, James," Ginny said.

"But, Mum—"

"She's right. If we call him out on it, he has all the connections to get a tip to Godfrey, which really would put your dad at risk. Besides, he's been leading this group for ages. Harry's best chance is for us to get there as soon as possible."

Ginny nodded in agreement to Charlie's assessment.

"I just... I want to hex him."

"You can't," Ginny said. "You need to act like nothing is different. And you can't tell anyone else about this. Not even Imogen."

"But—"

"Number four, James."

He took a deep breath. "Fine. But I don't want to see him."

Ginny sighed, looking at him. "We don't have a choice. Not until we get your dad back."


	11. Battle for the Compound

_**Battle for the Compound**_

For nearly three days straight James kept himself shut up in his room. He said he needed to study, though Ginny was certain his newfound studious side wasn't a result of a sudden surge of concern for his O.W.L.s.

"James, are you coming out for dinner," Ginny asked. His books were strewn across his bedroom and the half of his clothes that weren't on the floor, hung from posts on his bed and desk chair.

"No, I'll get something later," he said. He laid back on his bed, releasing a snitch he was playing with, watching it buzz in front of his face and catching it over and over.

"I know that Imogen would like to see you." Ginny stepped through the door, kicking aside a pile of clothes she knew she finished cleaning that morning. "You can't just hide."

"Sure I can," he said, not looking up. "I can't sit there pretending. I can't lie to her."

"Just… don't ice her out. She's been through losing both parents and she just wants to be there for you." Ginny bent and picked up a few shirts as James thought about this and nodded, but didn't move. "And if you're going to stay in here, let's get it cleaned up."

Ginny tossed the shirts to him and walked out to join the others, immediately understanding what James meant as Peter walked in the door. If only she could use the excuse of upcoming examinations to duck into her room for the night. Peter took a large salad bowl from Mrs. Gertrude, bringing it to the table and finding a seat across from Ginny, chancing a glance at her.

"Is James coming out?" Imogen asked. Her eyes were wide and hopeful. Ginny hoped James was able to grapple with the situation soon.

"He's not feeling well, dear," Ginny said sympathetically. "He'll come around."

Imogen didn't seem encouraged by this and Fritz looked irritated on her behalf as he gave a side hug to Imogen, kissing the top of her head. He whispered something into her ear and she nodded sadly. This meal was similar to that of the night before: quiet and contemplative. Charlie gave a curt nod to Peter, but Ginny noticed his jaw was tight.

Ginny concentrated on her food rather than allow anger to rule her, pushing it in patterns across her plate, occasionally taking a bite. As much as her and Charlie kept telling James he had to play the part, in only 72 hours it had already worn on her. Additionally, panic now settled over Ginny at strange moments, prompting her to check the clock over and over, seeing that Harry was still alive. Still waiting.

"Ginny?"

She looked up. She could have sworn dinner just started, but everyone else was bustling around, some exiting the back door, others cleaning dishes, and others still were taking instructions from Mrs. Gertrude in storing the left overs. Imogen was filling a clean plate, which Ginny could only imagine was meant for James.

"Ginny, are you all right?" Peter asked her.

She looked around and saw Charlie walking into the hall. The night of Peter's lie, her and Charlie realized they couldn't keep acting overtly suspicious. She pulled the Spy Glass from the closet where it was still stowed and altered it to follow her amid questions from James about why his own face had been there a moment before. Charlie kept it in his room, though this was the first time they would test its effectiveness.

"I'm," she sighed, then looked up at him,"doing the best I can under the circumstances."

"How did Lily and Albus take the news," he asked, leaning in.

She had taken a trip to Hogsmeade under the guise of going to tell her other children that their father was dead, though she used the opportunity to pass the latest information to Neville and make contingency plans involving him. "It was hard," she lied. "I want to see if we can get Harry's remains before we hold a funeral." Even though she knew this wasn't true, the very thought made her cry again.

Peter put his hand on top of hers and Ginny pulled it away, wiping at her tears. Peter looked hurt. "It doesn't dishonor his memory to let me be a friend, does it?" he asked.

"But that's not what you want," Ginny replied quietly.

"No," Peter admitted. "No it isn't."

He stood and strode down the hallway, leaving through the front door.

* * *

"Charlie!" Ginny shouted. It was a quarter past eleven at night and she had just let in a flittering owl tapping at her window.

His feet pounded in the hallway and he burst into her room. "What is it?"

"It's from Ron," she said, ripping open the seal as the owl left. Her hands shook. Another week had passed and Ginny felt consistently short of breath. James came in behind Charlie.

" _'_ _What we scored before Harry did'_ ," Ginny read aloud the password clue.

"What does that mean?" Charlie asked.

"Something to do with school, I think. Like the last one," Ginny said, narrowing her eyes and thinking. When she understood what it meant, she pulled out her wand, writing with the tip.

 _450-140_

"What does that mean?" James asked as the ink changed.

"It was the first time your dad kissed me," Ginny said. She couldn't help but smile at the memory. It was like Ron chose clues that kept his messages safe, but also created a rallying cry for Ginny to hold onto hope. "Right after Gryffindor won the Quidditch final."

Charlie and James came around to read the short note over her shoulder.

 _Ginny,_

 _Neville passed along your message. Arrests on the 5_ _th_ _at 2:00 pm your time. New Zealand will respond once their business is resolved._

 _Stay safe,_

 _Ron_

"Two days," Ginny said quietly. She looked up at Charlie. "I need to go talk to Peter now."

"I'll come with you," Charlie said.

"No." She reached into the closet, grabbing her travelling cloak. "Watch the glass, but this needs to just be me."

Throwing the cloak's hood over her head, Ginny walked quickly out the front door. Ron's note still hung from her hands as she walked the three blocks to Peter's small bungalow. She'd never been here, though the location as common knowledge among the group and Taylor had pointed it out when they'd gone out for groceries together one afternoon. There was a light on in the front room and she could see Peter's silhouette sitting behind the widely slated blinds with a glass in his hand. She closed her eyes to set herself to the task ahead, then stepped up to the door and knocked.

When Peter opened, his wand was pointed at her chest. He froze, blinked, then looked around. "Come in," he said, ushering her, placing a hand on her back. For the first time since his indiscretion in the desert, she didn't shrug it off.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked.

"No," she replied, pulling down her hood. "I'm here on business."

Ginny held out the parchment and Peter took it, taking longer to read it than Ginny expected. He inspected every word. "Who's Neville and what message did you pass?"

Ginny paused for a moment—maybe even just a single moment too long for her cover to be completely believable. "I told him about Harry's passing," she said. "Neville is an old friend who has been the go between for me and my brother, Ron. He's the one Harry sent his initial message through. He also agreed to host Mrs. Gertrude and the others staying behind, should anything happen."

Peter's eyes were narrowed, scrutinizing her before he looked down again. "So what does this mean?"

"We need to act the day after tomorrow."

"No," Peter said, agitated and shaking his head. "No, we aren't ready yet."

"Everyone is as ready as they're going to be. If we don't get in there before the arrests are made, Godfrey will have a chance to destroy evidence of the compound and you know he won't hesitate to murder everyone there."

"So you want me to send Ainsley and Eben and you in there to die based on a decision Godfrey _might_ make? I don't think it's a good idea," he said. He turned into the front room, walking to a large wooden desk, setting the message down.

He sat in the chair, pointedly not looking at Ginny. She stood opposite him, leaning with her hands against the edge. "After all of this you're just going to let dozens, maybe hundreds, of innocent people die? Many of them children and teenagers? Like Bradley?"

His eyes flashed as he looked up at her. "Don't use that against me."

Ginny swallowed, but held his gaze. "Please," she pleaded, her voice cracking. " _Please_ listen to reason. Charlie, Taylor, and I will going regardless. The plan will work with everyone, but we have to try even if it's just us three. I can't sit here while more people are killed."

Peter's eyes darted back and forth, worry settling into his features. Slowly, he started to nod and looked back up. "Okay," he said. "I'll take tomorrow off and we can solidify plans."

"Thank you," Ginny breathed. Peter stood as she took the note, folding it. She pushed it into her pocket.

"Can I walk you home?" he asked.

"No, I'll be fine on my own," she said, stepping towards the door.

Peter caught her elbow and, again, Ginny knew she couldn't pull away as she had recently. She turned to him, looking up into a desperate and uncertain face. "Ginny, I—" he faltered, raising his hand to her cheek. "I'm truly sorry."

She reached up, grabbed hold of his hand and gently pulled it from her face, giving it a squeeze. "Thank you," she said, then let it go as she opened the door to leave.

* * *

At one in the afternoon on the fifth, everyone stood in a large circle as Peter reviewed everything discussed the day before. "If you see anything like what Ginny described from Godfrey's defensive band, drop. Look for anyone wearing a metal band as well, though it's unlikely we'll see it. By the time we get there, the majority of people will be set to work. Children will be in classrooms for afternoon lessons. We need to move quietly to the square. It will mean minimal forces until we have control."

"Eben, you're still confident you can get the doors open again?" Charlie asked.

Eben nodded. "As long as they didn't change anything since last year." He was the only one among them that had gotten past this before. When Fritz and Taylor had gone to steal wands, Harry had been the one to get past the doors. "Just keep me covered."

"Got it," Charlie nodded.

"And remember, we aren't aiming to kill. Those you fight aren't in control of themselves," Ginny added. "If the spells they're using escalate, retreat. We will meet in the northwest corner of the compound."

Everyone nodded. They'd been over this a dozen times. Ginny, Charlie, and Peter each held identical metal buckets that Peter had turned into portkeys. "Fifteen minutes to get to your locations."

Ginny turned to where James stood next to Charlie. "If we aren't back by nightfall, or we don't send you a message by mine or Uncle Charlie's patronus—"

"Take Mrs. Gertrude, Nellie, and Imogen with me through floo to Neville's."

Ginny nodded. "He's expecting you. You know where your father's cloak is if it's needed and make sure to close the connection behind you."

"But what if—"

"Close it," she said firmly. "There may be no reason to worry, but we aren't risking it. Am I clear?"

James nodded again. He'd tried a couple times since discussions started the day before to interject, but bit back each argument when he'd catch Imogen's eye. They were as thick as thieves again, since Ron's message arrived, and Ginny was glad. His desire to stay with Imogen seemed to have a strong enough effect to keep James from arguing. Ginny kissed his cheek and pulled him into a tight hug. "We'll be back," she said. "Let's go," she added to those waiting for her and she lead them out through the shed.

Taylor, Miles, and Leighton all followed, each with their own broom and blazing looks of determination. Fourteen minutes. They strode quickly, Taylor taking watch as they turned corners and made their way to an open and abandoned park.

Ginny's heart throbbed, looking around the circle, then down at her watch. "Alright, everyone needs to put at least a finger in," she said, though they already knew this. As everyone put a hand in, Leighton was shuffled and stumbled, straightening herself. "You got your balance?" Ginny asked her.

"Yeah," she said.

"One minute," Ginny announced.

They stood, breathless, until the large bucket glowed blue and they were all pulled away, landing in the desert. "Stand back," Ginny said, breaking through the group and throwing the bucket to the side. Holding out her wand, she stepped carefully forward. When the tip hit the field, the green curtain appeared. "One at a time," she directed and each person from the group went through. Ginny stepped in last and let the green curtain drop.

Miles was already performing his disillusionment. Ginny turned her wand on herself when there was a collective gasp. She turned towards the field where a large, door-like opening appeared, edged in green. She pointed her wand over, eyes darting in the sky. The only time she'd seen openings that wide was when Godfrey's security was chasing them to the edge.

"I don't see anyone," Taylor whispered.

Ginny stared where the opening now closed and noticed a disturbance in the sand nearly 50 feet away from where the group stood. She thought of how Leighton had stumbled and how they didn't know how Imogen had gotten past the field without a wand. The looks between the two teens in the group and James's sudden obedience every time he looked at Imogen. Realization hit her like an anvil falling onto her head and Ginny walked over to where the trail of sand ended, reached out and snatched the invisibility cloak beneath her fingers. Every nerve stood on edge as James stared back, frozen, his eyes as wide as Galleons. He blocked Imogen with one hand and held a broom in the other.

"You," Ginny was shaking and stopped herself from screaming herself hoarse at the pair of them. She clenched her jaw. When she spoke again it was slow, deliberate, and trembling with anger. "You are grounded for the rest of your natural life."

"Ginny," Imogen's quiet, nervous voice came from behind James's protective arm. "Ginny, it was my idea—"

"Don't worry, you're next, young lady," Ginny turned on Imogen and she closed her mouth, looking up at James as though he could diffuse the bomb in front of them.

Taylor came up behind Ginny, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Ginny, we don't have time."

She was right. And Ginny was sure that's what James and Imogen had banked on. The bucket couldn't be used as a portkey again and even if it could, Ginny hadn't created enough of them to feel confident she could direct them back to where they needed to go. She took a single, steadying breath. "No matter what happens, you stay under that cloak and directly behind me," she said, her voice still held a tremor of explosion beneath the surface. "Do you understand?"

They both nodded enthusiastically and scrambled under the cloak again.

"Everyone else get ready," she directed. They all followed orders as though any one of them may become the next target for her fury. Ginny disillusioned herself, mounting the broom. "Ready?"

Each person called out a "yup" like a roll call from behind her, Imogen and James close as they kicked off. She concentrated, leaning forward and tried to put aside the terror that arrived with her son. Any risk that she'd known existed, suddenly increased an hundred fold. In a surreal moment, Ginny knew she owed her mother an apology; one that was at least a couple decades overdue.

They made it to the shaded space behind the cafeteria and landed. She turned, feeling James's shoulder behind her as the others undid their charms. She took hers off last. They stacked their brooms against the wall and Ginny touched each one, making them invisible against the whitewashed concrete. Everyone lined up against the building, Ginny keeping her arm against James and Imogen beneath the cloak, watching to her right. Fritz, Grant, Dakota, Eben, and Charlie came into view one-by-one on the far end of the building. Charlie nodded at her. She wished she could communicate James's and Imogen's presence. She could only imagine what Fritz's reaction might be.

Instead she nodded in return and they turned away from each other, following the two sides that lined the cafeteria. As she peeked around the corner, there were two people talking to each other against the wall. They both wore the plain linen clothing all of the captives here wore. Ginny looked over to Taylor, raising two fingers.

Taylor lunged out and Ginny turned, each aiming a stunning spell and the two fell as one. The group rounded the corner and Miles disillusioned the stunned figures, pushing them up against the wall to save them from being stepped on by passersby. They moved away, taking a right fork into a small alley. Ginny reached out, pushing James back as a guard passed the opening on the other side. Everyone flattened themselves on the edge, but the tall, thin man stopped. He stepped back, looking into the alley, wand up and walking straight in the middle. " _Confundo_ ," Ginny whispered. He was struck, immediately blinking, then turned and continued the direction he had come.

As they moved again, another sound echoed through the corridors. "Intruders! Intruders!"

Ginny's heart sped as their tactic changed, running in the direction of the sound. Ginny stunned another two people from behind, both, like them, running towards the warning call. When they arrived in the square, there were nearly two-dozen people fighting against them. Charlie's group was already formed into a semi-circle around Eben, who was working feverishly on the door. " _Protego!_ " Ginny shouted. The shield was thrown up the moment the jinx hit its barrier.

Peter was in front of his group, throwing spells left and right, Ainsley directly behind, and the others spreading out.

Those they fought against moved with frightening speed—as though they didn't have to think of what to do, but were there to throw one curse after another in machinelike formation. Leiza barely missed one jet of light aimed at her and was hit in the face by a second, doubling over as her nose bled.

Ginny moved closer towards those in front of the door. Whoever was leading the counterattack understood their weakness, concentrating their forces towards Charlie and the others. "I'm trying!" Eben yelled. Ginny sent a body-binding jinx towards someone about to attack Leighton and blocked another attack from her right.

Just as they gained the upper hand in the square, reinforcements poured in from every side. "Form up!" Peter yelled from his side of the square.

Ginny found herself shoulder to shoulder with Taylor, the two of them knocking down one person after another as Miles migrated farther right. Leighton was in the middle of the crowd and soon fell. "Leighton!" Ginny shouted, but she didn't stand and those in linen ignored her as they turned toward others still fighting.

Across the way Ginny saw Colt raised into the air, his limbs stretched until he screamed. She directed the counter jinx at him before a white hot pain slashed across her left cheek and threw her sideways.

" _Everte Statum!_ " James shouted from behind Ginny and she saw the jet of purple light fly over her shoulder and hit the woman that had just attacked her, throwing her back into three others.

Blood coating her palm, she stood. " _Protego!_ "

She looked over. The first door was open and Eben was gone. More people still came into the square. "Move," she pulled Taylor out of the way of a stunning spell, making their way closer to Charlie. If they could just protect that building… if they could keep hold of it… they could release this army from their stupor.

Progress was slow. Ginny created a barrier to the alley as they passed. Ten people piled up against her charm, pressing uselessly against the invisible wall. She looked over just as a blinding blue light made its way towards Dakota, who was blocking another spell.

"No!" shouted Fritz as he threw himself in front of it. It hit him in the chest, throwing him brutally into the concrete wall behind him with a crack. His body fell into a limp pile on the ground.

" _Fritz!_ " Imogen yelled and ran from under the invisibility cloak. Ginny had just enough time to grab James, holding him back as Taylor stepped in front of them.

"Imogen! No!" James shouted, trying to push past Ginny. "IMOGEN!"

Dakota emitted a shrill cry, throwing consecutive curses, stopping one person after another as she wailed. Imogen ran through the crowd using her hands to block each curse and jinx that came towards her, falling beside Fritz's body. Ginny blocked a curse, sending it skyward. "Charlie!" she called, struggling with James.

Then there was a cry that made the ground tremble. " _Stop!_ " Imogen's yell echoed in the din of the square. Its sound vibrated and crashed against the walls and rumbled. Ginny threw up another shield, but those directly in front of her shook. The look of waking up washed over them. Some of them dropped their wands. Others looked confused. Ginny watched in amazement.

"Where are we?" a frightened woman in front of Ginny asked. "Where are we?"

James stopped fighting, though Ginny hung onto him, the cloak's fabric wrapped up in the fist of her non-wand hand. Imogen lay over Fritz, who still hadn't gotten up and Dakota had made her way through the confused crowd, kneeling on his other side. Those with Peter made they way through, and Ginny closed her eyes in relief as they pulled Leighton up, Leiza and Trenton supporting her from either side. Charlie turned and followed where Eben had gone while Grant took up the position as guard at the entrance.

The crowd grew restless. More confused and panicked people piled in where they were able, calling out names. Taylor ran towards the middle, stepping up onto a platform. "Listen to me!" she shouted.

Everyone turned and fell silent. "We are here to help you," she said. "Anyone who is injured, to the north of the square. Those looking for family, to the south!"

Taylor continued to conduct as Ginny and James pushed through until they were beside Fritz's body. With a pain in her stomach, Ginny realized he wasn't going to get up as Leighton had. Dakota was holding his hand, stroking his cheek. Imogen sobbed into her hands over his chest as James knelt beside her wrapping an arm around her as he, too, began to cry.

Ginny left them there, running into the building and up the stairs. Eben and Charlie stood on either side of the final door. Ginny stood beside Charlie, wand at the ready. With a loud crash, the door flew inward and Ginny entered. There were six staff members in what looked like a viewing room. Their empty hands were in the air—their acknowledgement of defeat. Charlie created bindings for each of them as Eben and Ginny kept their wands trained on the others.

The room was circular, looking out into the square through a long panel of glass. She watched the crowds below, moving in an exodus towards a southern exit. It was clearing as families found one another and were moved to the storage areas. The others were all congregated around Fritz now: a quiet vigil in the midst of chaos.

"Where's Peter?" Ginny asked, noticing his absence. She looked all around the square, then over to Charlie.

"Go!" he shouted, leaning over to push her out the door, though she didn't need it.

Ginny flew down the stairs. Her heart pounded hard again. She ran out into the crowd, fighting its flow as she searched for the corridor that led west, where Peter had once said Harry was being held. She had to find him first. It was all she could think… she _had_ to find him first.


	12. Mind Prison

_**Mind Prison**_

Throughout the complex Ginny fought against masses of people. A few ran just behind her, shouting for their newly freed, confused compatriots to head towards the square, where Taylor was still organizing. All the buildings looked the same. Even as she made her way through a row of plainly labeled shops, Ginny wondered how she was ever supposed to distinguish the building where Harry was from the others. As she came out of the massive complex, though, she could see empty space, separating everything else from three towers 50 yards away.

In the white heat of the desert she saw Peter in his dark brown travelling cloak at the door of the closest tower. "Peter!" she shrieked, running again. He stopped, turning for a moment, then rushed as he threw a spell at the building. A door flew open and off it's hinges. Ginny ignored the stitch in her side as she pursued, panic at what Peter's plans itched beneath every inch of her skin.

"Peter, stop!" she yelled as she entered the building. The expanse was much wider than the tower appeared from the outside. They were surrounded by a black abyss, the delicate white platform hung in midair. At the end was a spiral staircase. Peter was halfway across. Ginny shot a stunning spell. She had made it twenty feet on the platform when Peter dodged, turned, and pointed his own wand towards Ginny. " _Protego_ ," she said, but the spell itself never hit her defenses. Peter watched as she tried to move forward, finding herself hitting an invisible wall. She stepped back, realizing she couldn't move that direction either. Terror settled over her as she reached out to each side, feeling the invisible box Peter had set around her.

Peter walked towards her, taking deep, heaving breaths. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Let me go!" she shouted. Peter's face screwed up into a painful grimace as he shook his head. "I know he's alive! I know he's here!"

Peter looked unsurprised. "He shouldn't have," he said. "He wasn't supposed to be here."

Ginny threw a spell at her prison, but it did nothing. She reached out, clawing against what she couldn't see. "Peter, please!"

"Godfrey went back on his word with me! He took my money, then decided his own plans were more important. Kept what he called a deposit and went back on our agreement."

Ginny was crying now, tears falling, fingers in pain as she fought. "You wanted Harry dead!"

"No," Peter said, stepping closer. "No, not dead Ginny! I swear! Just gone! Some place safe and well. He could have started over, with a new identity. Think of how much safer he would be if he weren't Harry Potter! No longer a target for dark wizards. I would have never— Ginny you have to believe me!"

"And that makes it better?" she cried.

A crackle echoed in the emptiness. Peter looked around at the platform. "This walkway will disappear in a few minutes," he said. "I need you to understand, Ginny. Listen to me." He stepped close as she stared at him in disbelief. "Ginny, I have been at this for years. I lost Bradley… I lost him because of my temper… because of my pride. I thought I could make it up to him! Do you understand that? I thought—" he paused and swallowed. "My wife left and my world was over. This was all I had! Then you… and James… you came and I knew there was a reason! I _knew_ there was a purpose in your being here!"

"Yes," Ginny said through her tears. "To find my husband."

"NO!" Peter screamed, grabbing his face in his hands, looking more crazed than ever. He looked back to Ginny. "You were my second chance! You _are_ my second chance! You will have time to grieve his loss... and I will be there for you."

Ginny shook her head back and forth. "I just want Harry," she said. "All I want is Harry…"

Peter looked saddened. "That's how I felt about my wife. It goes away. I promise."

Pressing her palms against the wall she looked at him. He was so certain he had this figured out. "I won't forgive you," she said.

"You won't remember this," he said quietly. He placed his right palm against her left one. Nothing between them but his spell. "In a moment, I'm going to release you and get you to safety, but you won't remember."

"And what about the others? Charlie and Taylor… Ron and Neville," Ginny said. "You can't get to all of them. They're going to realize—" she trailed off, her eyes pleading.

Peter's breathing became heavy again as he took this in. She could see that his plan—his perfectly reasoned plan—crumbled when hit by her words. "I'll figure it out," he said.

"Please," the word squeaked out of her. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead forward. "Please, please, _please_." She whispered the word over and over again, feeling everything inside of her breaking into pieces.

When she looked back up, Peter stared past her, eyes widened. Ginny turned behind her. James stood there, invisibility cloak in one hand, a disgusted scowl aimed at Peter. Another crack echoed as her heart sank. " _James_!"

"What about me?" James asked Peter. "You gonna make me forget?"

"James! Leave!" Ginny turned around, hitting the space between her and her son. Her fervor returned as she pushed through new desperation. She looked at the platform beneath her feet, breaking up slowly. "Number four, James! Leave!"

"Son, I—"

"Don't call me _son_!" James shouted at him. "You batty, twisted old man!"

Peter was pacing along the path now as the crackling grew consistent.

"James, you _have_ to leave! James—"

"You're as bad as Godfrey!" James shouted.

"—LISTEN TO ME!"

"I'm not a bad person!" Peter yelled, manically balling his hands into fists.

"JAMES! GET OUT!"

"Good people don't do _this_!" James pointed at Ginny between them, throwing her weight into the barrier.

Ginny gave Peter a pleading look, but he walked away, towards the staircase. She turned back to James. " _Get out of here now_!"

"I'm not leaving you!" James finally acknowledged her, yelling angrily back. He pointed his wand, trying spell after spell, but they did as little as Ginny's own had done.

"Please! Go!" Ginny begged, still pounding her fists.

Ginny nearly fell as the barrier disappeared. James caught her by the elbows. "Move!" she yelled and he turned. The platform fell from its center. She used her wand to push James forcefully the last 10 feet just as the platform dropped out from under her.

James crashed into metal as Ginny felt something lift her inexplicably upward. She hit into the landing, the edging knocking the wind out of her as she grappled to hold on. Ginny looked over her shoulder, Peter's figure at the other end, falling slowly into darkness. It was him, she realized. It was Peter who had saved her.

"Mum!" James shouted, scrambling to grab Ginny from under her arms. He pulled her up the rest of the way. When she was steady, Ginny pulled James into her, clutching him as they sat there. "We're okay, we're okay," James said as though trying to believe it himself.

"You shouldn't have been here," Ginny cried into his neck. The image of James falling into blackness repeated in her mind.

"I saw you leave the square and knew something was wrong."

"You are in so much trouble," she choked out.

"Yeah, well you can chuck me into Azkaban after we get Dad," James replied.

Despite the pain and dissipating fear, Ginny gave a short, shuddering laugh as she pulled James back, examining his face with her hands. "Don't be a smart arse," she said.

James pushed himself up, then grabbed Ginny's hands and pulled her to her feet as well. They stood on the landing, waiting several minutes before the platform formed again.

As tendrils of white came together out of the blackness, becoming one long bridge, Ginny lead the way, walking quickly across. The stairs were made of metal, more solid than the magical entryway. Ginny took them two at a time, ending at a square metal platform with another short, magical bridge between them and a large white dome. Flat panels lined the dome's edge, creating a polygonal wall. Unsure of the limits on the smaller platform, Ginny pointed her wand to the door and it opened. The inside of the room was a brighter white than the exterior, like light filled every inch. It was clinical. Empty. Except for Harry, who stood straight in the center, wearing the linen clothes that were now painfully familiar.

"Dad!" James shouted and Ginny grabbed onto him, pushing him backwards.

"You're not going in there," she said.

"But—"

"James!" she shouted, then grasped firmly to his upper arms, looking into his worried eyes. "You need to listen to me. If you're going to do anything I ask today, you need to do this. Stay here. Back against the metal outcropping under the cloak. I don't know what this room is. I need you to stay here. You are not to come in. No matter what happens."

"But—"

" _No matter what happens_ ," she repeated. "If you see something, go find Charlie. Do you understand?"

James's eyes were locked on Harry in the room, but he nodded.

"Not a toe inside that room," Ginny said again. She grabbed the cloak from his hand, throwing it over him and pushing him back into a corner.

Ginny turned, cracking the knuckles of her empty hand and stretched her wand out in front of her. As she stepped across the threshold, the room stretched, much like the corridor to the tower had. Harry, who had appeared feet away, was now at least ten yards from her. Ginny pointed her wand around the room until she was sure it was empty.

"Harry," she called from where she was. He didn't move. Hands at his side, Harry had his eyes closed, glasses still on, as he muttered something to himself. Ginny ran forward.

"Lily, Albus, Ginny, James," he whispered in a steady rhythm. "Lily, Albus, Ginny, James, Lily, Albus—"

Ginny reached a hand to his face. "Harry," she said. "Harry, I'm right here. I'm right in front of you. Open your eyes, sweetheart."

"Lily, Al…" he paused, his jaw tightened and his brow knit. "Albus, Ginny…. Ginny—"

"Yes, love, it's me! It's me," she said desperately. "Harry, please look at me!"

She looked around, hoping there would be some clear answer. What was this place? Had he gone mad here? She took Harry in. He was thinner than normal, though he didn't look starved. He was clean and his skin was white with the lack of sun, stubble spread across his face. She took one of his hands in hers, pressing it to her heart. "Can't you feel that, Harry? Can you tell I'm here?"

"Ginny," he said again. There was a pause before, "James, Albus, Lily, Albus…"

"Quite an interesting mantra."

Ginny dropped Harry's hand and whipped around. She stood as a shield in front of Harry and pointed her wand at Leonard Godfrey. He walked around the edges of the room, his metal band clear today as he wore a plain white dress shirt and black slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

"Oh, now you don't want to use that with me," he said cordially. "Would you like me to pull up a chair?" he pointed his right hand to the floor and a chair appeared. Ginny just stared at him, wand still pointed at his chest. "No? Suit yourself."

"What is this place?" Ginny asked.

"Neat isn't it?" Godfrey leaned back in his chair, calm and collected. "I got it from a bloke in the Switzerland Mysteries Department. He's sendin' his ankle biters to a good school for what I paid for it, too. The platforms are from your country, though. Keeps loiterers from gettin' too far. And if anyone did get out of this place, they probably wouldn't get across fast enough either. Interestin', the things you witches and wizards come up with. This place, for example, is a memory zapper. Not sure what your people would actually call it, but I gave it my own name, see?

"If you were to stay for a day, you'd start to forget appointments and schedules you had planned. After about a week, birthdays would be quite difficult, if they weren't already—never was much good at that one myself. By a month, you shouldn't remember who you are at all. Not forever, of course. The walls hold all the information. But it sure makes a great holding cell. Suspends time and space, too! Don't need any food or water in here. Muscles will still atrophy, but it's not like that costs money for upkeep the same way as feeding a prisoner."

"Lily, James, Ginny, Albus," Harry continued behind her.

"Seems this one's determined to not forget, though. Incredible what the human mind can combat, isn't it? I'd be interested to see what happens if you can distract him, though. You see, he started this about two weeks after gettin' here. He figured out what was happenin'. Knows those names will be taken if he stops. Still stuck, see, so I didn't mind so much. But it will be interestin' to see if he really forgets or if seeing you helps! So carry on! It's rivetin'!" He leaned forward, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"It's over," Ginny told him. "Your agents are being arrested and this place will be nothing but a bad memory."

"Yes, well, cost of doing business, right?"

"Those are people!"

"Those are also workers," he said with a cavalier shrug. He wasn't bothered by Ginny's anger or accusations. His grin remained, his manner easy. "And if you think about it, most of them would have been dead on the streets if it hadn't been for me. Who else out there is feedin' runaways? They had homes here. They had lives. Many had children."

"That were born into slavery," Ginny spat. "So these justifications… is this how you sleep at night?"

Godfrey laughed. A big, booming, jovial laugh. He leaned back, placing his hands behind his head. "I find fresh lavender works under my pillow pretty well for that actually. Suffering from insomnia?" Ginny didn't answer as she stared at him. "So, let's see what's next."

"You find yourself in a prison cell," Ginny said.

"I think not," he said. "I hoped it didn't come to this, but I do have plans set in place. Now that you're here you can be part of them! Your husband was a pretty decent incentive for the ministries to leave me be, but I've done my research, Mrs. Potter. The two of you together… what a pair! Couldn' have done any better if I'd planned it. So go on! Let's see if you can get him to wake up! Then we'll take the two of you together!"

Godfrey leaned forward again and Ginny pulled her wand up to chest level.

"Well, if you aren't going to play, I can do without you," he said. He pulled up his right hand and before Ginny could see it well, an orange light burst from the center of his palm, hitting her feet. A fire landed by her shoes and expanded.

" _Augmenti_!" she shouted, putting it out, then pointed up again.

Godfrey looked delighted. "Most people round here know about the protective band by now. Keeps the wizards at bay, mostly. But I haven't gotten a chance to show off this one." When he raised his right hand this time he made sure it hit the light. It looked like delicate pieces of wood had grown into his skin. In the middle of his palm was a smooth, circular piece. "Got some of that magical wood that's supposed to be so good 'round here for wands. Took ages to figure this out."

"A wand doesn't make a muggle a wizard," Ginny said.

"Yes! And there was the problem!" Godfrey said, as though he were delighted they had gotten to the heart of the issue. He stood, pacing back and forth. "Spent ages to figure it out, but if you have a… well let's call them a willing participant... a muggle can use a wizard's magic. In a way I'm like the core of other wands… the thing that makes the magic flow. Only, because I also have a brain—unlike a unicorn hair—I can also control the source of the power!

"Really, I should write a paper on it. It would revolutionize how wizards are valued, I'm sure."

Godfrey shot a stunning spell and Ginny blocked it, sending it up and to the right. It hit one of the panels, making the section shake.

"Lily, Gin—" Harry stopped for a full minute. Ginny didn't dare look back at him as Godfrey smiled at her.

"Probably got back a couple memories there," Godfrey said. "Probably left right away too. I wonder if he gets hit directly. Think that will wake him up?"

He shot another spell, this time past her and Harry to the back wall. Ginny hardly had time to react, turning to block Harry's other side so that when the spell ricocheted, it hit her right calf. She swore loudly, but forced herself to concentrate. Godfrey had sent another spell bouncing off a panel from the left and Ginny turned, sending it back. It was like a game, Godfrey finding ways to try and hit Harry. The names only came occasionally as one panel after another felt the effects of the spells.

When Godfrey stopped, Ginny stood in front of Harry again, her free arm out. She was panting for lack of breath. He clapped, slowly and with a large smile. "Impressive! So many mums let themselves go, but that was truly somethin'!"

"Try chasing teenagers about for a while," she said.

Godfrey laughed. "Oh, you are quick. Almost makes me sad to have to kill you. You sure you don't want to come along quietly?"

"Not a chance in hell," Ginny said.

"Go ahead and get a good breath then. I like to play somewhat fair at least," Godfrey said, rubbing his right palm against his slacks.

Ginny looked around the room again. There was nothing here to help her. Even if she knocked the panels out and Harry regained his memories, they would still have Godfrey to contend with. Godfrey and his metal band that made him invincible.

"So where are you going to go?" Ginny asked, trying to buy herself some time. "It won't be long before you're on a watch list in every country. Both Muggle and Wizarding communities will be watching for you."

"Oh, I have a place," Godfrey said. "Nice little island. Don't think I'll be saying more than that, though. You're a clever one. You'd probably get it all figured out. Real problem if you become a ghost."

"And you've made enough money to never leave, I suppose?" Ginny said. Each plan cycling through her mind came up with the same problem: the metal band. James had hopefully already gone. He had enough sense to have gone to get Charlie, she hoped.

"Yes, yes, I'll be fine in that regard. I have a network of suppliers in place. This is just a hiccup really. Are you all caught up then? I'd really love to test the limits on this thing."

"Not quite," Ginny said. She had one chance—one hope. She pointed her wand forward and to the right, creating a spell surrounding her and Harry and Godfrey. It took all her energy to hold it. Godfrey seemed entertained at her last ditch effort until his face dropped as his left arm was tugged outward towards the gold circle. Ginny felt her wedding ring fly off her finger, hitting the field with a ping, and caught the ring and locket from around her neck with her hand as it struggled to do the same. The chain around her neck pushed into her skin, but she held on, pushing energy into the magnetic field.

Godfrey's cuff, larger and heavier than Ginny's jewelry, pulled even harder. His smile was gone as he grunted and fought. The metal twisted against his wrist, then jerked in the opposite direction. The break of bone and his scream echoed as the field pulsed loudly in Ginny's ears.

The paneling cracked, top layers breaking first. Harry's litany of names stopped and Ginny saw his form drop to his hands and knees right behind her. His glasses flew off, the lenses becoming dust as they hit the gold light. Godfrey was pulled as panel after panel was destroyed. Ginny didn't know how much longer she could hold out as every muscle strained and the chain finally broke. Her grip redoubled on the jewelry in her hand, the metal burning against her skin. Godfrey reached over, fumbling with the band until he finally released its hold, falling against the ground. The band was twisted into a useless chunk of metal. Before Ginny could end her spell on her own, a fissure burst her wand from tip to handle and everything stopped.

Ginny looked down at the wand that wouldn't do anything now, dropping it. It couldn't protect her. It couldn't protect Harry. She had nothing left. Nothing left she could do. Godfrey laid out on the ground, rolling as he grabbed at his broken wrist, grunting and cursing. Ginny turned, dropping in front of her husband.

"Ginny?" Harry asked, looking up in disbelief.

"Yes," she said, tears forming in her eyes. To her left, Ginny could see Godfrey stand.

"You horrible little witch!" he spat at her, as she looked over.

He stretched out his right hand, pointing it towards her. She had disabled him, though. He would kill her and try to take Harry. She could only hope someone would stop him. Ginny turned back to Harry, moving to cover him as completely as she could manage, closing her eyes. A red light flashed brightly followed by a heavy thud. Ginny's eyes shot open, seeing Harry still in front of her and turned. Godfrey had been stunned. He lay out, impotent and unconscious. She turned her head to her other side. The panelling was entirely gone and she could see the empty staircase and landing outside of the room. "James Sirius," she shouted hoarsely. "What did I tell you?"

James took off the invisibility cloak, standing on the edge of the metal landing. "What? All ten toes are out here!"

"He did good," Harry said and Ginny turned towards him. He was shaky and weak, but he was looking at her. Tired green eyes pierced her own. "You did good."

Harry reached out, taking Ginny's face in both hands and kissed her. When he pulled back he wiped tears from her cheek with his thumbs, carefully tracing the thin cut down her face. "I missed you," he said.

Ginny kissed him again.


	13. Second Chances

**_Second Chances_**

After using James's wand to bind and gag Godfrey to the metal landing, Ginny took one side of Harry and James supported the other, making their way back to the main square. They were in the alley with shops when the sky became spotted with large green-rimmed holes and black figures dropped quickly from the sky. "That must be the New Zealand aurors," Ginny said. At least that's what she hoped as they continued on.

"Almost there," James told Harry as the task of walking grew more taxing on him.

Medics spread out everywhere. One came over, creating a stretcher and helping Harry onto it, leading them into the square much faster.

Charlie and Imogen were speaking with an older, dark-haired auror when they saw them. "Thank God!" Charlie said, hugging Ginny. Imogen dove into James, crying as he wrapped himself tightly around her. "Backup just got here and I was about to come find you."

Someone tried tending to Ginny's cheek, but she pointed their attention back to Harry as she explained where they found him and gave warnings about Godfrey's capabilities. "There were two other towers, but I don't know if there are others there," she said.

"We believe he's been keeping his brother in one of them. We'll take it from here," the auror replied, rounding up a couple subordinates and heading in the direction she came from. Ginny didn't know why this idea—Godfrey imprisoning his own brother—sickened her compared to everything else he had done, but it sent a chill down her spine.

Ginny stood at the foot of Harry's stretcher, talking with Charlie as they filled each other in. Fritz's body had been covered and would be transferred to Melbourne soon. Miles and Leiza were taking care of Dakota, and Taylor had made sure they were on their way back to Mrs. Gertrude's at the first opportunity. Taylor was in the thick of things, becoming a liaison by default.

One of the New Zealand aurors came over at one point, informing them of how many were estimated to be transferred to hospitals in Melbourne. "The Australian Ministry is creating a large hostel for the others, it should be ready in the next hour. Then we can transfer everyone else," she said.

"Thank you," Charlie nodded, and she left. He turned back to Ginny, lowering his voice. "You haven't said anything about Peter."

"He's gone," she said.

"Did you have to..."

"No, I didn't kill him," Ginny said. "We'll talk about it later. Alone."

They turned back to Harry. The team working on him had whittled down to one healer. Ginny grabbed his hand.

"How you doing, mate?" Charlie asked.

"Couldn't be better. I had a beautiful redhead wake me up, you know," Harry replied groggily. And there it was: the crooked Potter grin. Only for the first time in as long as Ginny could remember, it was for her.

"Well, mostly red," Charlie said, looking over. "What happened to your hair, by the way?"

"What do you mean?" Still running on the energy of the afternoon, she felt defensive. "How do you think you look after everything today?"

Charlie conjured a hand mirror and gave it to Ginny. Sure enough, beyond the gruesome appearance of the dried blood and a swollen cheek, the front two inches of her hairline was a shocking, pure white. "The last spell I did broke my wand," she said. "It took a lot out of me."

"You look lovely," Harry said, squeezing her hand. She didn't bother pointing out his inability to know this without his glasses.

The night passed in a flurry of doctors and visits. Ginny refused to leave Harry's room so that a taciturn healer treated her cuts, burns, and bruises from his bedside. Ron arrived at nearly nine, bringing some extra glasses of Harry's on Hermione's suggestion. Taylor, after being released, came with a miniature and more perfectly doll-like version of herself in tow, doing an elaborate fist bump with Harry—a gesture that if Ginny had any doubts when it came to the two of them, would have put them to rest. James seemed keen on filling Harry in on almost everything that had happened since he went missing: from their time at the Burrow, to his near expulsion (though James downplayed the severity), to officially introducing Imogen, and right up to the plans of that morning.

"Let's talk about the rest of this tomorrow," Ginny said, sensing Peter's name approaching. James seemed to have enough sense to leave him out to that point. Harry couldn't handle that tonight. Imogen couldn't handle that tonight. And Ginny knew that she couldn't handle that tonight. "I need to send owls to Neville, Lily, and Albus… and I need a shower." She stood, leaning over to kiss Harry, then spoke to the others as one. "Just make sure this one doesn't get kidnapped again while I'm gone. Imogen, why don't you come with me?"

Imogen, who had been nodding off for the past half hour, stood and followed Ginny out the door. They made it out of the hospital and hailed the bus to get back to Duwick. "This is the first time I haven't had to be disguised while going out," Imogen said, leaning against Ginny.

Ginny smiled, wrapping her arm around Imogen as they rode along. By the time they arrived at Mrs. Gertrude's, Imogen was fast asleep, using Ginny's shoulder as a pillow.

* * *

The time it took to talk with everyone else was longer than Ginny expected. The whole first hour she answered questions about Peter and what had happened in the tower. "He saved me," was all Ginny said about their time on the platform. Ginny wanted to give Peter the one thing he desired: a second chance. That second chance would be through living in memory for what he had done right in life, rather than what he had done wrong. At least in the memories of those who didn't already know.

When she got back to the hospital, it was one in the morning. Charlie and Emily were the only sensible ones of the group—Charlie with his feet propped up on the window sill, snoring, and Emily curled up on the couch with her head in Taylor's lap. The others played with a deck of cards and, Ginny was glad, talked about things unrelated to the compound. "Ron, you can stay in my room. I changed the sheets for you."

"After everything today and you're worried about clean sheets," Ron said, shaking his head. "You're just like Mum."

"Don't be a prat and just get some sleep," she said, nudging him from the spot nearest Harry.

Ron roused Charlie as James gave Harry a final hug for the night. Taylor had trouble waking Emily, so Charlie picked the girl up and they headed out, a large, exhausted group.

Ginny fussed with Harry's blankets. "I think it's time you got real rest, too," she instructed.

"I want to talk to you first," he said. "About… the night before everything happened."

Ginny swallowed. Like Peter, she'd hoped this was a conversation for much later. Still, the prospect of finally assuaging her guilt had the words on the tip of her tongue quicker than she could stop them. "I've thought a lot about that. Harry, I was awful. I shouldn't have been so short with you. Not with everything you were doing."

Harry tilted his head. "That's not what I was going to say at all." He pushed himself up on the bed. She sat on the edge as Harry took her hand. "Ginny, I… I couldn't stop thinking about our conversation when I ended up at that place. That I'd never get a chance to make it right. You weren't wrong: I had been working more than I needed. When Lily went off to school, I figured if I worked more, I could spend more time with the family on holidays. Then the kids came home and I…" He shook his head as though to shake loose a memory. "I was just so used to doing one more thing. Taking on one more task. And more than being unfair to you during the summer, I missed out."

"Missed out?"

"On you," he said. "On us. I wasted a whole year. I kept thinking… what if that was it? What if I never saw you again? And I had wasted hours and hours that should have been filled with you. I'm glad I have another chance and I just wanted to promise you… it will be different. It will be you and me. Always."

Ginny wiped a few tears away and nodded. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out the jewelry. Her hand still bore an angry red mark from holding these few precious pieces. She disentangled Harry's ring from the broken chain. "I've been keeping track of this for you," she said, reaching over and placing it back on his finger where it belonged.

Harry adjusted himself on the bed, pulling Ginny over to lay with him. The small cramped space hardly accommodated them, but he wrapped himself around her, kissing her neck, and the two fell asleep, together again.

* * *

Harry was using a cane by the time the funerals came around a few days later, though he still leaned heavily on Ginny when he stood. The group decided on a joint graveside service for Fritz and Peter. Their plots were side by side, though Peter's would only contain a few personal effects from his home. Ginny had talked with Taylor, Charlie, James, and Harry the day before, deciding that they alone would know the full truth about Peter. She knew it was the right thing when Charlie nodded his approval. Harry was more than a little upset, but Ginny expected as much. And although Peter was gone, he seemed to hold Ginny tighter after the discussion.

Their somber group each took turns sharing memories of those they lost. Only Dakota was unable to say anything as Mrs. Gertrude held her up through the ordeal.

When it came time for James, he said very little about Peter. Ginny expected him to do the same with Fritz. "Everyone knows that I wasn't Fritz's favorite person," he said with a grin. There was a collective laugh. Even Dakota smiled through her tears. "But there was this time I had an argument with my mum. I was trying to find Imogen and Fritz made me talk to him instead." Ginny looked over at James, surprised to be hearing a new part of a story she thought she already knew. "Mostly he told me I was being an idiot, of course, and that I needed to go say I was sorry. I don't remember a lot of it specifically, but I do remember the last thing he told me. Frtiz said 'when you love someone, you never, ever run from them. You run towards them.'" Dakota's crying was renewed as she nodded. "And he did that right up to the end. He ran towards those he loved."

When everyone finished speaking, each of them placed flowers on the graves and walked away. That afternoon was the first time Ginny had a chance to speak with Dakota. "The hospital here is creating training positions and working with some local educators. I'm going to try that program," Dakota told Ginny. She mindlessly spun the wooden engagement ring on her finger. "Mrs. Gertrude said I'm welcome to stay with her as long as I want."

"I wanted to talk to you about Imogen," Ginny said. "We don't have records on her parents or any living relatives. I know there was a time Fritz talked about the two of you taking guardianship."

Dakota looked down at her ring. "I know," she said, then looked back up at Ginny. "I don't know if I can do it without him. I can't give her what she needs. I feel like I'm letting her… letting Frtiz down."

"You're not letting anyone down," Ginny said. She reached out, holding Dakota at arm's length. "That would be a very large responsibility for someone as young as you to take on. Harry and I have discussed it, and with your permission we'd like to have her live with us."

Dakota tearily nodded, leaning on Ginny's shoulder and sobbed as Ginny rubbed her back, whispering promises that it would be all right.

* * *

Two weeks passed with Harry back. After the funeral, Ginny informed James he was going back to school. The argument lasted a whole two minutes.

"You're doing as your mother says," said Harry. James dropped it. Harry's word was gold these days. Ginny wasn't sure how long it would last, but she intended to use it.

James may not have been happy about going back, but was genuinely cheered when Ginny told him they would prepare Imogen to join him at Hogwarts soon. "Besides," she said, "we are arranging a visit when we're back home and you can come with Lily and Al."

With James gone and Harry spending most of his day working with therapists and healers to regain the muscle lost during his imprisonment, Ginny and Imogen spent their own time working with Taylor at the hostel.

The situation with the compound exploded in the international media. Taylor, Eben, and Charlie were all part of a large committee fielding offers from schools to build adult education programs, institutions offering support, families wanting to adopt displaced children, and hundreds of individuals donating food and clothing. An army of volunteers were organized to reunite victims with their loved ones, where possible. It was a clerical nightmare, but Taylor seemed thrilled to have a task to do.

"Seriously, I don't know where all this food is gonna go," Taylor said, levitating three boxes in front of her. Ginny bought a stock wand from a local maker, but it didn't work quite as well for her, so she carried a box by hand instead.

"We'll find a place," Ginny said. "My mum had a great spell for expanding cabinets. I think I might remember it."

"Ma'am, you need to go back to the ministry and—"

"No, I came here to talk to her. I don't need long. The form is built for if you don't know if they're here, but I know she's here," the woman interrupted the guard at the front. She was tall with an American accent, holding a newspaper in her right hand. "Please, they said it might be weeks and I can't—"

"I'm sorry, but that's how this works."

"But you don't understand—"

"What's going on, Jeff," Taylor stopped and asked.

The woman paled. "Taylor?"

It wasn't surprising she knew Taylor's name. Taylor had been one of the most interviewed members of their group. She hated having her picture taken, but she took on the leadership role well and the others were happy to let her have it. "What can I do for you?"

Jeff looked put out as the woman stepped passed him. She swallowed. "You probably don't remember me," she said. Taylor narrowed her eyes, unsure. "I haven't seen you since you were so little. Not since your dad left."

Taylor's wand hand dropped to her side and the boxes hit the floor. Ginny stayed right at Taylor's shoulder.

"I-I don't know what to say," the woman stumbled on her words. "I saw the articles and I couldn't believe it. You look just like your mom... " She took a shaky breath. "When your dad left, your grandma took you and disappeared. I tried so hard to find you. Then she died and you and Emily were missing and we thought…"

Ginny saw understanding wash over Taylor. "Aunt Josie?"

It was like when the words were said, Ginny could see what had been there the entire time. The woman's hair was a light brown and curly and her face was longer, but they had the same nose, and their eyes were both set wide. Josie nodded, biting her bottom lip. Taylor lunged forward, throwing her arms around her aunt's middle. Josie's body relaxed as she held onto Taylor, continuing her explanation.

Ginny stepped away, letting them have a moment as she took the boxes one at a time, catching bits of a larger conversation. When the food was all put away Ginny came back to see Josie kneeling in front of Emily. The older woman's eyes were rimmed with tears, though her smile was wide as she pushed Emily's dark hair out of her face, talking to her.

Taylor stood, watching the two of them, her expression still one of shock. Ginny stood beside her. "You okay?" she asked.

Taylor nodded. "She came for us," she said.

* * *

"Do you want some more eggs?" Harry asked Imogen.

"No thanks, Mr. Potter. I think I'll go finish getting ready," she replied, pushing away from the table.

"I'll come braid your hair if you'd like," Ginny suggested. Imogen nodded as she went into her room.

Really it was Ginny's old office that was in the middle of being converted into Imogen's room, but they'd had little time in the week they'd been back. Mostly they spent every spare moment getting Imogen ready for school. It was the middle of March, but Professor McGonagall agreed that they could use that time well, if Imogen was willing. While Imogen was gone, Ginny figured she'd rope her brothers into coming and changing the doorway into the living room, so Imogen wouldn't feel as though she'd been given servant quarters.

"Why does she call you Ginny, but me Mr. Potter?" Harry asked.

"Because you're scarier than I am," Ginny answered. She leaned over, giving him a kiss on the cheek and grabbing both of their plates, moving to the sink. "I'm just hoping she rubs some of those good manners off on James."

If Harry thought about it, Ginny was sure he would realize it was because Imogen had first gotten to know him from healers and aurors calling him Mr. Potter, or, less formally, by his surname only. Between that or following James's lead in calling him "dad", this probably seemed the less awkward of the two for her.

"Speaking of James and Imogen," Harry said, moving to the sink, taking rinsed plates from Ginny to dry and stack. "Do you think we need to set up any… precautions. You know, in more private areas of the house."

"Done. Not that James wouldn't think of something eventually, but I took care of it last night."

"You're so suspicious," he said with a smile, setting down one of the plates. He stepped behind Ginny, placing his hands on her hips, kissing her neck.

"I just know better than to trust you Potter men and your hormones. Also, you should know that the charms don't get you out of a conversation with your son. Now, help me get these sandwich trays together for lunch later."

They worked in the kitchen until the clock—now hanging over the kitchen table—moved to travelling for their three children. It was ten thirty and Ginny knocked on Imogen's door. "Come in," she said.

Imogen smoothed down the front of her new school robes, taking a deep breath as she examined herself in the mirror. Her reflection didn't seem to bolster her confidence. Ginny stepped up behind her, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. "How are you doing, love?"

Imogen looked at Ginny through the mirror. "What if I'm not supposed to go?"

"Do you not want to go to Hogwarts?"

"No I do," she said. "But what if the headmistress talks to me and realizes I shouldn't be there."

Ginny ran her fingers through Imogen's long, bright blond hair, picking up pieces at the top of her scalp to begin braiding. "You've already proven you're as competent a witch as any other," Ginny told her. "Everyone's nervous before going to school, but you'll do fine. I think you'll surprise yourself, even."

Imogen nodded, though she didn't look entirely convinced. "Do you think my parents might have gone to Hogwarts? If they hadn't ended up in the compound?"

"It's hard to say," Ginny said. A special taskforce was still looking into finding files and records, though there was no evidence this existed. The only lead was the surname Imogen remembered: Dahl. Imogen Dahl. Though she used it now, they didn't know if that was her mother's or father's last name, or if it had been a pseudonym only. Nothing had turned up and the only two people who might have had some idea were gone. "It's as possible as anything else."

"I keep thinking of what house they may have been in if they did go there. James said he hopes I'm in Gryffindor."

"Of course he does, but don't let that influence you," Ginny said, grabbing a hair tie and finishing the braid.

"He said everyone in your family has been in Gryffindor."

Ginny leaned so her face was next to Imogen's, looking at her reflection, smiling. "We will be happy to have you, regardless of what house you're in."

Imogen took a deep breath and gave Ginny a small grin.

"Now, let's get out there. They should be here any moment."

Harry, Ginny, and Imogen were lined up in the garden when the knight bus crashed into the lane.

Lily was the first to burst from the bus. "DAD!" she squealed, dropping her bag by the gate and running into his open arms. Albus wasn't far behind, the two of them covering Harry from both sides. "I missed you so much," Lily cried into his neck.

"Oh, my Lily Luna… I missed you, too," he said.

James, having seen both his parents more recently, went straight for Imogen, picking her up and kissing her as though it had been a year rather than four weeks. "Nice to see you, too," Ginny said. He ignored her as he kissed Imogen again.

Ginny moved to the gate as McGonagall stepped up to it with a large hat box in hand. "I see James has taken his toll on you," she said, indicating the white streaks framing Ginny's face.

Ginny laughed, taking the box from McGonagall. "I would say you have no idea, but I don't believe that's true." McGonagall gave an approving grin. "I hope he hasn't caused trouble since he's been back. I haven't gotten any owls, at least. Confunded or otherwise."

"No, he's done quite well, actually," she said. James and Imogen were lost in each other so he wasn't even aware he was being praised. "I have had more than one teacher express that they are impressed with how well he kept up in his absence. Professor Longbottom has even convinced me to let him take his place as chaser. Mind you, the reasoning may be more to his wanting to keep that cup than James's behavior."

"I'm still relieved to hear that."

"Indeed," McGonagall said. "Well, Miss Dahl, I am anxious for a word with you, if you don't mind."

Ginny ushered everyone else through the house and into the living room, letting McGonagall and Imogen have the kitchen to themselves. Lily sat next to Harry, telling him all about being the Gryffindor's new seeker this year. Albus had moved over to Ginny, giving her as tight a hug as he'd given his father. "And with James playing we should be able to beat Slytherin," Lily said.

"Hands down," James agreed. "We'll flatten 'em."

"I thought you were suspended from the team," Harry said.

"Professor McGonagall just told me he's been doing so well that decision has been reversed," Ginny interjected.

"Yeah! In fact, I was hoping you might talk with McGonagall about letting me have Hogsmeade weekends again too," he said.

"Mmmmm, no, I don't think so," Ginny said.

"But Mum—"

"There's still a lifetime grounding I've been tempted to impose, so I'd pick my next words carefully, if I were you."

James let out a breath. "All right."

"You can go again next year," Harry said.

Imogen was in with Professor McGonagall for nearly an hour, but entered the living room looking considerably happier than she had been all morning. "She will do quite well, I think," McGonagall announced. She moved to the center of the room where the box sat, conjuring a stool. "And I must say that her potions acumens was beyond what I expected. Miss Dahl told me you are to thank for that, James."

James's smile widened.

McGonagall set the stool right in front of the hearth and Imogen sat. Ginny saw James, leaning against the back of the couch, mouthing _Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor,_ but Imogen looked at Ginny.

"My verse is hardly ready," the hat said as it was pulled from the box.

"A simple judgement is all that is required of you today," McGonagall replied, lifting it and placing it on top of Imogen's head.

There were several minutes before the hat shouted, " _Ravenclaw_!"

It was now that Imogen looked over to James. Lily gasped. "That's Luna's house!" she said, excitedly.

"Well, as long as you remember you're rooting for Gryffindor in the Quidditch matches," he said, still smiling. Imogen smiled back as McGonagall took the hat off.

Imogen moved so she stood next to James as McGonagall issued instructions on meeting with Professor Sinistra when she arrived and that she would be placed with the third years. Imogen would be the oldest of the group but not so far behind that it wouldn't be possible to catch her up over the next couple years if she worked diligently.

After lunch McGonagall made her way back to the school, leaving the Potter family—including their new addition—to spend some much needed time together.

* * *

Ginny rifled through Lily's suitcase, counting the number of shirts, jeans, and pairs of socks. Closing the lid, she snapped the locks and carried it out to the living room. "Lily, you need to go make your bed," she said.

"How about after I show Emily the rest of the skivving snackbox?" Lily asked.

"How about now?"

"Fine," she sighed. Emily and Lily stood together. "The puking pastilles are the _worst_ ones," Lily continued to explain as they went towards her room.

Albus was hunched over his chess set on the coffee table, deep in thought. It was the one James had bought him from an aboriginal maker in Australia. A matching set sat in Ron's study and when pieces moved on one chessboard, the other reflected this move as well.

"You aren't packed at all, Albus. Your father will be home any minute and then we're leaving."

"I'm _so close_ to beating Uncle Ron."

"We're also _so close_ to catching a portkey to Peru," Ginny said. "Packing, now."

Albus responded with a growl that gave Ginny the dreaded feeling she now had two obstinate, teenage boys. "James and Imogen are the ones hiding in the garden snogging while everyone else does all the work," he complained.

"Yes, well they're bags are ready, so stop narking and get packing," she said. He rolled his eyes, but went to his room.

Ginny went into the kitchen where Josie, Taylor, and Charlie all sat around the table, drinking tea. Josie and Emily had been here for a full week, while Charlie and Taylor came from Romania late a few nights before. The house was full to capacity and Ginny could only wonder how her mother had handled so many bodies at all times.

She stepped over to the sink, opening the window above it. She flicked her wand and waited a moment before James's loud exclamation. "Ow! Mum!"

"Oh, lovely, you're out by the garden," Ginny replied loudly, not bothering to squelch the airy sarcasm in the words. "You two could take care of the de-gnoming before we go then, yes?"

She turned, realizing all three of the others were looking at her. "Did Mum give you some secret mother's playbook or something?" Charlie asked with an amused grin.

Ginny poured herself a cup of tea and sat beside Josie. "Are you saying you were caught snogging in the garden often?"

"Well," Charlie shrugged.

Josie busied herself, adding cream to her cup. Ginny noticed all week Josie's discomfort with Taylor's and Charlie's closeness. Ginny figured she was torn between the fact that Taylor was an adult and the instinct to voice her distaste if there was romantic entanglement between the two. Charlie was, after all, old enough to be Taylor's father. Josie would have to figure out about Taylor what the Weasleys had known about Charlie for ages—their love of dragons was too consuming to leave room for thoughts of romance. The way Taylor talked, Ginny could see her love for the work had entrenched itself in the short time she'd been in Romania.

"Have they finally given a timeline on your internship?" Josie asked Taylor.

"It's barely been a month," Taylor said. "But Charlie said they're looking to create a permanent position for me."

"There's some grant money we're waiting on. Then we can bring Taylor on through a training-employment program."

"Aren't there any of these Dragon places in America?"

"Well, there's one outside of Vancouver, but they only take in rescue animals," Charlie said. "Dragons missing limbs, that are blind, that are in their eldest years… that sort of thing."

"I'd just really like to have you closer," Josie admitted to Taylor.

"With a real position I should be able to come back more often," Taylor said, getting a nod of agreement from Charlie. "Are you sure you can't come to Peru?"

"I wish I could. This international wizarding education conference probably won't be the most exciting thing in the world, but it'll be good for American institutions to start participating," she replied. Josie worked in the education department of the American wizarding school system, which had been beneficial in Emily getting into a top program. "It will be good for you and Emily to have the vacation together, too."

"Yeah, should be fun," Taylor said.

"Are you going also?" Josie asked Charlie.

"No, we have a new Common Welsh Green being brought in."

Josie seemed pleased with this news, though not nearly as much as Taylor. "They won't have socialized her before I get back right?"

The two of them started on about work again as Josie turned to Ginny. "Thank you again for having us. It's been a wonderful week. You have to let me return the favor sometime."

"I have a feeling Lily and Emily will be demanding the same thing soon," Ginny agreed.

"What are you doing de-gnoming right now?" Harry's voice came from the yard. "Are you packed?"

"Yeah, Mum told us to do this," James replied.

"All right, but we're leaving soon." Harry opened the door. "Got the portkey. We have thirty minutes." Everyone shuffled from the table at this announcement.

"I better go say good-bye to Emily," Josie said reaching over to Taylor, kissing her cheek. "Send me an owl if you need more than what's in the satchel."

"Thanks, Aunt Jo."

Charlie also gave a round of goodbyes and Taylor grabbed her bag, talking dragons with Charlie all the way out.

"Albus should be packed by now, but we need to make sure he didn't forget his toothbrush. I have tickets to the museums, and—"

"Breathe," Harry said, stopping Ginny by grabbing her arm. He pulled her in, wrapping his free hand around her waist and kissed her. "How about this: when we get to Peru, we'll hire a local guide to keep the others busy. Then, you and I will get the most expensive hotel room available and not leave it."

Ginny laughed. "Let's just pretend for the next two minutes that plan will work."

Harry hummed, leaning in and continued kissing her. The kitchen door opened.

"Seriously? You make us de-gnome while _you_ get to snog?"

In response to James's indignation, Harry dipped Ginny back and carried on.


	14. Gypsy Child—Sequel Preview

_**A/N:**_ Here it is! You can go find the full first chapter of **Gypsy Child** can be found here: s/11452657/1/, but I wanted to place a little preview for all of you who have been so awesome to read this story. Just a couple of head's ups: It is unlikely that I will keep the same pace in publishing the new story due to school starting up again. I will try to be as consistent as possible. Second, I am rating the sequel at T and will utilize that rating, though there will be nothing terribly explicit.

Thank you again to everyone who left reviews! I'm glad so many seemed to like it and hope you'll like the sequel!

Story description:

Imogen Dahl has lived with the Potter family for just over two years now. She is dating their son James, and Lily is as much a sister as any she could have ever imagined. But when visions of her mother become a regular occurrence, Imogen feels torn between a family she loves and a past she longs to know.

 _ **The Song**_

 _In the meadow  
In the meadow  
Just before the sun will rise_

Imogen closed her eyes, letting long, thin fingers run through her hair. Her mother's sweet voice was like a soft flute and the song felt familiar, but she wasn't sure why.

 _Meet me there  
And find a rainbow  
Then you always will be mine_

When she looked up, she saw the sheets of white-blonde hair, so like her own, had been pulled over her mother's right shoulder. Her golden brown eyes were half closed as she smiled and sang.

 _Down the stream,  
And through the hollow  
There you'll see—_

"Imogen."

— _lad_

"Imogen, the feast is starting soon."

Imogen kept trying to listen, but the voice faded, the feel of fingers lessened, and the beautiful face was gone. She opened her eyes and Lily stood over her, red hair hanging haphazardly as she waved her hand inches from Imogen's face. "Oh good," she said as Imogen pushed her hand away. "I thought maybe O.W.L.s had finally done you in. Mum and Dad would have been devastated. You're their favorite, you know."

This wasn't true. Imogen knew she was just the one teenager in the house that never really argued when asked to do something.

"It was so nice out today, I just wanted to sit in the grass for a while," Imogen said, rubbing her eyes. "I guess I fell asleep."

"Guess so," said Lily with a grin.

Imogen had lived with the Potter family for just over two years now. She was used to Lily's teasing grin the same way she was used to Albus's obsession with beating his Uncle Ron at chess, and Ginny's tendency to get a short fuse when writing about the Holyhead Harpies after they lost.

"Well, come on," Lily said. "James is probably wondering where you are."

When they arrived at the Great Hall, James was standing at the entrance. He reached out, grabbed Imogen's hands, and pulled her in for a kiss. "You gonna sit with me?"

Imogen had been sorted into Ravenclaw, which meant splitting meal times between James (who she had dated for as long as she had been with the Potters, and was a Gryffindor) and her own house. Today, the hall was decked out with red and gold, though. She couldn't imagine that the Gryffindors would want her butting into their celebration of winning the house cup. Ravenclaw had it the past two years and Slytherin the year before, making this the first time in four years that Gryffindor won. Already, Lily had run in, standing on the bench of the Gryffindor table between two of her friends. One of them flicked her wand, starting loud, upbeat music, and the three of them danced what looked liked a choreographed number to the applause and catcalls of those around them. Albus looked completely embarrassed by his sister.

"I told Lorcan to save me a seat," Imogen said.

James let out a breath, tilting his head. "Come on, we're going to see them next week."

"And I'm going home with you," she countered. She went up on tiptoes, kissing him.

"Fine, but I call dibs on having you with me on the train." It was a moot point, as they could all fit into a compartment just fine.

They entered the Great Hall, James holding on to her hand as long as possible as they separated. He started doing a champion's run when he got to the Gryffindor table, giving high fives and fist bumps to all his friends from his house as he went down the row.

Imogen couldn't help but laugh as Lily pointed straight at her before doing a cartoonish shimmy, her vivid hair bouncing around her. Imogen sunk into the seat beside Lorcan Scamander.

Lorcan was Imogen's best friend. When the Potters took her in, Imogen was fourteen and had never attended wizarding school. Because of this she was placed with the third year Ravenclaws, despite her age, in hopes that she would have time to catch up by O.W.L.s. Though Ginny had taught her quite a bit, she was still painfully behind when she arrived and wondered if catching up was even possible. Their head of house, Professor Sinistra, assigned the prefects at the time to help tutor her, but it was Lorcan who helped the most. Patient and smart, he was easier to approach with questions. It helped that they were in the same classes as well. She'd become good friends with him before James realized and told her that Lorcan's mother, Luna, was a close friend to his parents, Ginny and Harry. This year, Lorcan and Imogen were assigned as prefects, giving them even more time to spend with one another.

"Why don't you just ask her out?" Imogen asked quietly as Lorcan watched Lily.

"I heard she just broke things off with Bryant," Lorcan replied, looking away as the Professors all entered the Great Hall, ending the dance party at the Gryffindor table. "I don't want to be her rebound."

There was always some excuse: Lily fancied someone else, Lorcan was too busy studying for O.W.L.s, it was bad timing with summer coming up, and so on. Lorcan had liked Lily for as long as Imogen had known him—apparently longer, as they had grown up together. The problem was he talked himself out of even the simplest conversation with her. It didn't seem to matter that Imogen had offered a hundred times to talk to Lily for him, the most he'd ever done was talk about some future date he would work up the courage and do it himself.

"Maybe when you're visiting The Borrow next week," Lorcan mused.

It wasn't as though he weren't handsome. His twin brother, Lysander, looked very similar to Lorcan. Both had golden brown hair with loose curls, wide and friendly eyes (Lysander's were green and Lorcan's grey), and tall statures. Only Lysander seemed to understand he was handsome, earning the general attention from all the Ravenclaw girls in their year and half of those from other houses. Lorcan, both too humble and too shy, lacked confidence and buried himself in his school work instead of facing the dreaded world of girls.

The end of the year feast went as expected. Professor Morrigan, the headmistress appointed when McGonagall retired the year before, gave her congratulations to Gryffindor, to the graduates, and to the student body in general. They ate copious amounts of food before they were given information regarding departures the next morning and then dismissed for the night.

James weaved through the crowd, finding Imogen in the entryway. "I'll see you in the common room," she told Lorcan as James pulled her away. He brought out his invisibility cloak and threw it over the two them, going up and up until they made it to the Room of Requirement.


	15. Harry at the Compound: Part 1

**A/N:** If you are following _The Empty Crib_ , you may have already noticed I'm visiting previously unwritten, if implied, portions of various stories in this five set series. Mainly because it's fun to explore what wasn't germane to the stories the way they are. This one should be a 2 or 3 part revisiting of that month Harry was first gone. It's about his time at the Australian compound and his attempt to get in touch with Ginny.

This past week has been really rough for me, so if you enjoy this little tidbit, you would legit make my day if you would review!

 _ **Harry at the Compound: Part 1**_

Harry's alarm went off and he felt around for his wand. He turned off the beeping as he pushed himself up in bed, rubbing his eyes. He reached for his glasses, putting them on, and continued to shake away the sleep. He looked over to where Ginny lay, curled up towards him, easy breaths and a relaxed demeanor he didn't get any other part of the day anymore. It seemed like all they ever did lately was argue and Harry just wished she would understand.

She used to, he thought. Harry had supported her in moving to Wales to play for the Harpies and she had encouraged him every step of the way in his own career, including over ten years ago when the position for head of the Auror department opened up. Harry had gone back and forth as to whether or not he wanted it, but Ginny had told him he was ready for the move, more so than any other potential candidates. And she had been right.

Harry carefully played with loose strands of hair framing Ginny's face, tucking some behind her ear. She took in a deep breath and nuzzled into her pillow a little more. He leaned over and pressed his lips to her temple. No, she didn't understand. She didn't understand the pressures he was under at work; the stress he felt at the thought that someone could be harmed for something he left undone. Otherwise she would be fine with them putting off their vacation. Otherwise she wouldn't harp on him about getting home late. Of course he would rather be with them. How could Ginny think differently?

Harry took a shower and got dressed, heading down the hall. There was still time before he was expected at the office. He cracked open James's door. To get all of them up would only cause hassle for Ginny. Lily, especially, was more likely to make noise after he was gone, waking Ginny up. Harry was sure his wife hadn't slept more than a few hours by now. James, though, would probably go right back to sleep.

"James," Harry said in a loud whisper. His son groaned and turned on his other side. Harry went into the room, kicking aside a pile of shirts. It was hard to tell which piles were clean and which were dirty, when it came to James. Harry was pretty sure even _he_ didn't know. Harry weaved through the maze and shook James's shoulder. "James, wake up."

James groaned again and rolled onto his stomach, his eyes squinting against the little bit of light coming from the hallway. "What do you want?" he muttered.

"Get your broom and come out to the yard," Harry said, nodding his head. "Let's go play a quick game."

"I'm tired, Dad," James said, his head dropping back to his pillow as he closed his eyes.

"You can sleep after I leave for work," Harry said, shaking him again. "Come on, James. Just you and me."

"Mum had me degnome yesterday," James replied. Harry rolled his eyes at the excuse. Like their small garden ever had enough gnomes to have taken long. Besides which, if Harry knew his sons, they were both sent out and Albus did most of the work. "Just sod off and let me sleep."

Harry took a deep breath. There was no point in lecturing him how he had wished he could have played Quidditch with his dad. Besides the fact it never got through to them, Harry wasn't sure that was true. Not the way he was often tempted to say it at least. As an orphan Harry felt that way, but he certainly could see the teenage perspective enough to know that if his parents had lived, he could have just as easily turned and tried to have a lie in rather than play with his dad.

"Alright, then," Harry said, patting James on the shoulder. "Have a good day. And listen to your mum."

James probably didn't hear the last directive, already comfortably resettled as Harry left the room, closing the door quietly. He grabbed the morning paper and headed off to work early instead. It was probably better that way. He could get a head start and maybe get home early, too. Then Ginny couldn't complain at least.

As he sat down to the piles of papers and owls on his desk, however, Harry knew that being on time might be about as good as it got for him that day. Others rolled in between eight and nine until there was the noise and bustle of a full office. Harry attended a briefing with Updike, then a meeting with the minister, and then giving an update—as little of one that existed—to his current case.

Harry ate lunch at his desk. He had finished the last bite of his sandwich when Ron strode over, holding up a piece of parchment.

"Possible tip off," Ron said, holding it out.

"Thank god," Harry replied, sitting up and pulling it out. "London, too. Let's go."

Ron was officially in charge of the investigation, but Harry couldn't let it go as he ran it alongside. The reason for the disturbances was still a mystery. They couldn't figure out the supposed victims, either, which kept Harry close to the case. Harry stood, brushing the crumbs on his hands onto his work robes before he pulled them off, knowing they would be heading into muggle London. "Anonymous, again," Ron explained. "But the same handwriting. Whoever it is seems to have a finger on the pulse when it comes to this."

"Well last time it had already happened," Harry pointed out. "Let's just hope there was more foresight in this tip."

Ron lead the way to the lift. If this gave them a solid lead, Harry could actually get away. They wouldn't be worried about another random tip coming through while he was gone. Here was the answer to making Ginny happy again.

"Alright, Harry?" Ron asked after a group from the third floor got off the lift, leaving them alone.

"Just thinking," Harry replied.

"Anything in particular?"

Harry thought for a moment, then shook his head.

Ron looked straight ahead with a nod. "You and Ginny have been rowing again, huh?"

It was the single topic Harry didn't offer up quickly. Ron had long since given up the role of the emphatically protective older brother, but that didn't mean it wasn't complicated.

"I told her we have to postpone Peru," Harry said.

"Why?" Ron asked.

"I can't leave with this case still completely open," Harry replied.

"You know we can always contact you if something comes up."

"I know," Harry said, his tone more snippy than he intended. "But this one's different, Ron. Something doesn't sit right."

"Alright," Ron replied with a shrug. "Well, maybe this is our answer."

"I hope so."

The spot was vaguely isolated, for still being in the city. Ron and Harry took the underground, not wanting to show any signs of magic, unsure of whether there would be someone on the lookout. After getting back to street level, they walked several blocks until they were at the location. There wasn't anything here yet. Harry's hope picked up. That meant it hadn't happened. Whatever _it_ was. Either that or the tip was wrong, but Harry pushed back that idea.

"No one's here," Ron said quietly, leaning back against the nearest building. "What do you think?"

Harry looked around at nearby buildings. There were several open windows. It was a warm day, afterall, but no one was looking out or concerned.

"Let's wait it out," Harry said. They moved to a set of steps, sitting and chatting, trying to remain inconspicuous to anyone passing by. Harry looked at his watch every few minutes.

Fifteen had passed when two pre-teens came into view in front of the alley across the street. A boy and a girl, neither could have been older than twelve, each carrying a backpack. The girl had out a piece of paper, squinting at it. She seemed well dressed and fed, whereas the boy was scrawny and unkempt. Even from across the street, Harry could see the dark bruises on the boy's exposed arms and his cheek. There was a wand sticking out of his back pocket.

"Come on," Harry said, unsure what two kids could have to do with this. They stood and made their way across the street. The boy looked at them and his eyes widened, but the girl was wholly focused on the paper.

"It says here," she said. "Maybe we're early?"

The boy reached out to grab her hand and she turned, seeing Ron and Harry there. She pulled out a wand of her own. Harry was certain she didn't know what to do with it. She looked even younger from close up. "Don't come near us!" she demanded.

Ron took his wand and disarmed her. She looked terrified and put an arm in front of the boy.

"Don't worry," Harry said. "We're only here to help."

"I don't believe you," the girl said, a tremble to her voice. "Did his parents send you?"

"Calm down," Ron said, less patient than Harry was going for. "No one sent us. What are you here for?"

"None of your business!"

The boy was behind her, looking small and frightened.

"What are your names?" Harry asked more gently than Ron. The girl looked to him, then back to Ron. "We're here to help."

"It won't help if you send him home," the girl insisted.

"Alright, but you have to let us help," Harry said. "What are your names?"

She swallowed. "I'm Sadie," the girl answered quietly. "This is Joseph."

"You alright, Joseph?" Harry asked. The boy simply nodded. "Alright, why don't you talk to Ron, here, and I'll take a mo with Sadie. Is that alright with you?"

Joseph looked between the girl and them and nodded. Harry held out a hand and signaled Sadie to follow him. She looked back at Joseph, but moved forward toward the other side of the alley, folding her arms in front of her. Harry wasn't sure Ron would get much out of the boy.

"Why don't you tell me what's going on," Harry opened it up.

Sadie pressed her lips together and shook her head. Harry leaned forward onto his knees, getting down to her eye level.

"If someone at home is hurting Joseph, I can only help if you'll talk to me," Harry said.

"You can't send him back there if I do," Sadie said.

"I'll do everything in my power," Harry said. "Now, what are you doing here?"

Sadie took a deep breath. "His dad hits him," Sadie said. "He gets drunk and hits him and his mum, too."

"How do you two know one another?" Harry asked.

"He lives down the street from me," Sadie said, she looked over at Joseph and swallowed. "My mum and dad keep reporting it, but no one ever does anything. No one comes to help."

"And you thought coming here with him would?"

"There was a man who told us to come here and Joseph could go live away from them," Sadie explained. "And I wasn't going to let him go alone."

"Go live where?" Harry asked.

Sadie shrugged. "Somewhere we'll have food and a place to live. It has to be better than his place."

"And what about your family?" Harry asked. Sadie's eye shifted down guiltily. "What are they going to think with you gone?"

"I left a note."

"Okay," Harry said looking around. He didn't know what these two kids could possibly do with the reported disturbances, but he looked around. No one else. "Who was supposed to meet you here?"

"No one," Sadie said.

Harry was trying to find the next question to ask when the sound of wind came suddenly. Only there wasn't any wind. There was a shout from Joseph as Ron and him disappeared into the alley.

"Stay here!" Harry shouted at Sadie as he ran towards them. The pull inside the small corridor was strong. There was rubbish and dirt kicked up and moved around. Ron had Joseph in one arm, his other hooked around the bar of an emergency ladder of the adjacent building.

"Hold on!" Ron yelled at Joseph, the boy's feet being pulled out from under him. Harry could see Ron slipping as well.

Harry threw a barrier charm, which was immediately broken by the force of the portal, opening wider with a green light rimming it. He moved along the right side of the alley, where the force didn't pull directly, still gripping rails and stones to steady himself.

"Joseph!" Harry shouted when he was even with them. "Reach over here!"

The boy was frightened, but gritted his teeth as he moved one arm towards Harry. Harry ground his teeth as he gripped the boy's hand and pulled him into his body. Ron grasped onto the iron railing with both hands now. Harry was able to tuck Joseph into his own body, the boy's arms grabbing onto him.

"Leave the alley," Harry instructed, "and stay to this side."

Joseph seemed reluctant, but began to inch along the wall. Harry did a charm, pushing him forward. Joseph stumbled from it at the corner, but Sadie's hand reached out for him and Joseph was out of sight.

Harry turned back to Ron. The ladder was breaking away from the building and Ron was losing his footing. Harry saw the increasing pressure the portal was creating and lunged forward, grabbing Ron's elbow and throwing him left towards the wall.

Moving his feet along the pavement became impossible as a force enveloped him, pulling him back into the green light. Harry could see Ron yelling at him, see him get to his feet, no longer unsteady, but he was growing distant. He was disappearing. Harry's world was disappearing.

* * *

Harry landed hard on his shoulder.

" _Imperio_ ," a woman with an Australian accent said.

Harry felt the old, familiar sensation of when the curse was applied. The commands had long since been nothing more than a voice in the back of his mind, the only reason he knew what was expected of him by the caster, but other than this, it held no sway over him.

 _Stand up_ , the voice indicated.

Harry thought for a moment. Did he follow it? Or did he fight? He had no idea where he was or who these people were. He didn't know how many he would have to fend off. If he played along, he could finally see what these portals were about. He stood slowly, realizing he didn't have his wand. Not on him. He looked around discreetly on the floor. It wasn't anywhere. He probably dropped it while pushing Ron out of the way.

"Since when did we get someone this old?" The woman asked.

Harry could see a man in the corner, sitting in one chair with his feet settled comfortably on another while eating a sandwich. "Better run it by Godfrey," the man said. He was also Australian. "Looks like his recruiters are gettin' sloppy."

"I'm not gonna be yelled at for their shite work," the woman declared. She walked around Harry. As he looked back the command came.

 _Look straight ahead_.

He followed orders, taking in what he could see around them. There was a map with various buildings. Posters that looked mundane otherwise—general motivational sayings or calendars with photographs of dragons or griffins. The images were all moving.

"I'll run it by Astrid first," the woman said. "Let her handle Godfrey if it's needed."

"Eh, your catch, your issue," the man said.

"It was supposed to be two," the woman grumbled, walking towards the door.

 _Follow me_ , the command issued to Harry's mind. He did so, going through one door and down a set of steps. She weaved in and out of various buildings. It was cooler here than back home, but then Harry was sure he'd heard somewhere that seasons were opposite in Australia. The weather, their accents… he could be fairly certain of his location, at least. Why anyone would be taking people from England to Australia was beyond him.

He took in the utilitarian structures. People were walking the streets, each looking forward and emotionless as they shuffled along. All wore the same linen clothing and were generally young. Even the oldest of them looked younger than him. One young man looked up as they went by, his eyes focused on Harry. He couldn't be more than twenty-five or six. Sandy blonde hair and sharp features. He started to turn his head as they continued to move, then seemed to shake himself out of this when he saw Wilma, snapping back to looking forward and moving along like the others.

They made it into what appeared to be a central location—a large square with a platform in the center. The buildings on three sides looked the same as the others, whereas the one to the left was more of a tower, with windows in a semi-circular panel facing out. It wasn't until he saw the glass that he realized what had been odd throughout the rest of this place… no windows. Even the buildings with shop signs swinging above the door didn't have windows for consumers to look inward.

The woman waved her wand in front of the door. There was a keypad and she didn't even bother to hide as she entered a code, apparently believing her complete control over Harry.

9-4-4-7-3

Harry repeated the numbers in his head over and over.

9-4-4-7-3

She opened the door.

9-4-4-7-3

She lead the way up the steps.

9-4-4-7-3

She opened a second door at the first landing.

"Oi! Astrid!" she called from the doorway. From where Harry stood two steps down, he gazed into the room, moving his eyes more than his head. There was a desk lining the windows and several bodies turned away and looking out. Three in view before a woman with her blonde hair in a low bun came to the door.

"What _now_ , Wilma?"

"There was a hiccup in the delivery," Wilma replied.

Astrid turned to him, narrowing her eyes. "Well this is useless," she said.

"I don't know," Wilma replied. "I got him just like the others."

"You think a wizard that age hasn't had at least a little training against the imperious?" Astrid scoffed. She moved towards Harry, raising and eyebrow.

He tried to mimic others he had seen under the curse in the past. When left alone, not directed, they acted normally. When under direct orders, they were mindless and focused, unless orders insisted otherwise.

Astrid poked the tip of her wand towards his forehead, pushing his hair aside and staring at his scar.

"Oh, shit," Wilma said in a hushed tone. Astrid pursed her lips, thinking. Wilma cackled. "Just wait 'til I tell Vard I caught a famous one."

"You didn't catch a famous anything," Astrid snapped.

"You saw it!"

"Are you really moronic enough to think that if _you_ were up against someone who defeated the darkest wizard in the world you could overpower them?" Astrid snapped.

Wilma went red in the face. "You just think because—"

"Shut up," Astrid said in a dull voice. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms and looking at him. "Probably some look alike."

"With the same scar?" Wilma asked incredulously.

"An impersonator, then," Astrid said. "All I care either way is whether or not you really have control. What's your name?"

"Alastor Black," Harry replied. It was an alias he used often, though he was generally disguised when he did.

"That doesn't mean nothing," Wilma said.

"Are you saying he's not under the curse then?" Astrid asked, raising an eyebrow at Wilma.

"He followed me, didn't he," Wilma said with a pout.

Astrid ignored her this time. She waved her wand, holding a short blade in her hand. With another wave, there was a barrier between Harry and her. Astrid handed the knife to Wilma. "Make him cut his hand," she said.

"What?"

"You heard me," Astrid said, her eyes still trained on Harry, watching for him to slip.

Wilma sighed and held out the blade. Harry could use it to attack her, but it wouldn't take care of Astrid. Or the half dozen other people he would be facing with wands if he broke now.

 _Cut your hand_ , the command came.

He looked down at the knife, taking it as he felt his stomach tie up in knots. He couldn't see a way out of this. He opened his left palm and swallowed. He wondered how to make it shallow and whether or not that would ease the pain. Harry grit his teeth and pressed the tip of the knife into the skin. The blade split his flesh, opening it up a moment before the red eased from underneath, blooming on his palm. Harry felt his lips shaking and his breathing pick up.

"Enough," Astrid said.

Harry stopped a beat before the command officially came from Wilma. The first woman took back the knife before Astrid took down her own defenses and reached out for his hand, closing the cut, though the blood still oozed down his palm. One drop moved slowly towards his wedding band and Harry focused back on the two women arguing.

"Why do you get him?"

"Because he's obviously married. You think he's going to stay under your control long with that?"

"So we set him with one of mine!"

"Wilma, get back to your station," Astrid said. "I'll take it from here."

Wilma scowled and huffed, but went back down the stairs and out of sight. The voice changed slightly. Minutely, even. Harry hadn't even noticed them shift control. How familiar were they were with the process? He had never seen anything like this—organized use of the imperious curse. Recruitment, they had called it.

Astrid passed him on the stairs.

 _Come with me_.

Harry followed, wishing he had gotten a better glance inside that room. There was another floor up above, too. He would have to figure out how to get into this tower again. Astrid took him into the street. No one was out anymore. She lead the way through alleys and buildings. He could hear laughter or shouting come from different flats that they walked passed. The buildings were three stories high, simple boxy buildings, with an entrance on either side.

Astrid didn't bother to give him a proper tour. She didn't look back to see if he was still following either. Harry looked up and around for signs of surveillance. He couldn't sense any sparks from typical spells, though there were the occasional muggle cameras high up on the corners of the buildings. They were pointed in the areas with shops more often than where people seemed to live.

They were on the outskirts of what appeared to be a large dense town. The second to last building Astrid opened a door—this one unprotected and unlocked—and lead Harry into a corridor with several doors. With a wave of her wand, the third door on the right swung open.

"There you go, home sweet home," Astrid said, stepping to the side.

Harry entered. The navy couch looked clean, though worn in, and there was little besides a rug in the front room.

 _Accept the life we give you_ , the voice said.

Harry turned back to the door just as it slammed, Astrid gone. He walked over, turning the doorknob. Locked. Harry let out a breath, wondering if he had miscalculated. Maybe he should have fought Astrid for her wand on the way over here. Or taken Wilma's when he first arrived. They had definitely been anticipating those children, but why? One thing was clear, they didn't count on being figured out when the families realized Joseph and Sadie were gone. There was a note. They were running away. They would be chalked up to a sad story about two kids who didn't see another way out.

Harry walked around the small flat. Small was being nice for what this place was. There was a living room, not much bigger than the walking space around the couch. Through an arch was a kitchen and dining area, with a small round table and two chairs. There was a light hanging low over the table. The bedroom and bathroom in the back weren't much to be cheered by, the same sense of a temporary rental flat that the living room inspired came to mind. No pictures. No art.

Harry looked in the kitchen. There were basic implements, including a set of plates, bowls, and flatware. The cupboards were empty, as was the refrigerator except for a tray of ice in the freezer. Harry pulled it out, cracking the ice loose as he went into the living room. He looked up at the ceiling and removed a piece of ice, throwing it to hit the stucco. Nothing.

It was an old trick Kingsley had once taught him and Ron. Surveillance charms didn't hold up well against extreme change. If met by such a change (say a massive shift in temperature), the magic would be exposed as it attempted to adjust. Either there was the same hubris Wilma had exhibited or they didn't have the capacity to keep up the imperious on everyone and watch these spaces.

Harry testing the other rooms before putting the leftover ice back in the freezer and laid out on the bed. He turned his wedding band with his thumb as he wondered when they would tell Ginny. First they would try and reopen the space to find where he had gone. Then they would take the kids back to the office and attempt to get more information from them. Harry was certain this wouldn't yield much. Sadie seemed to be acting before bothering to think, as children often did at that age.

Once the department knew they wouldn't get Harry back in a reasonable amount of time they would have to inform his family. Ron would do it. Harry was certain. Even if someone else volunteered, Ron would insist. And he would hate it. Harry wondered what Ginny would think. He wiped a hand down his face. He was supposed to be making things better today, and now this…

Harry hoped James would do whatever Ginny said to make things easier on her. He hoped someone would tell Lily in a way to not frighten her. He hoped Ron would know that if Albus was putting on a brave face, he needed words of comfort more than the others. And Ginny…

Harry's mind kept circling back to her. Her face. Her smile. Harry hoped Ginny knew he loved her.


	16. Harry at the Compound: Part 2

**Reassigned**

Harry laid on the bed, staring at the clock and trying to figure what time it was back home for over an hour before the door to the flat opened up. He pushed himself onto his elbows and watched as Astrid lead a girl inside. Harry stood and walked to the doorway between the dining area and living room. The girl wore the linen clothes he had seen earlier, though she seemed to have torn the sleeves off the shirt, exposing a banded tattoo on her upper arm. She had piercings up her ears, and was on the short side of average height. Dark hair, dark green eyes, and a round, porcelain doll like face with a vacant expression. She held a plain black bag in her hand.

"Look Taylor, we found your husband," Astrid said in a bored voice, looking away. Harry had to force his shock down before she turned back to him. "Why don't you two take a few days off. Consider it a honeymoon."

 _Accept the life we give you_ , the command came again. Taylor closed her eyes and a visible shudder took over before she returned to how she was. Harry concentrated on her.

"Thank you," Taylor said plainly to Astrid.

Without another word, Astrid turned and left the flat, closing the door behind her. With the click of the handle, Taylor relaxed visibly.

"I'm so glad you came home!" Taylor said in a bubbly, sweet voice with a clear, American accent. She moved forward and gasped. "What happened to your hand, sweetie?"

Harry felt stuck to the carpet as she took a few steps, grabbing his hand with dried blood still staining it.

"Taylor," he said, wondering what her own commands had consisted of. She tugged on his hand, pulling him towards the sink.

"Let's get this cleaned up," she said, running the water and cleaning up the blood, revealing the healed skin below. "How did you do that?"

"Long story," Harry said. "Taylor, you don't need to do that."

"Of course I do," Taylor replied. She turned off the water and dried his hand. "We'll have to tell Emily tomorrow about the move. We should be able to catch her as she gets off her shift. In the cafeteria."

"Who's Emily?"

Taylor paused. Another shudder. "My sister," she said with a bubbly tone as she turned back to him.

Taylor wiped her hands on a dish towel and Harry walked away from her, going into the living room and sinking onto the couch. She followed behind as he tried to figure out the purpose in this latest arrangement. Because he was married, Astrid had said. They were trying to give him his status quo. If the imperius had worked, maybe that would satisfy a very large portion of his life and mindset. But why a child? Best guess, Harry would say Taylor was the same age as, or not much older than, James.

As Harry was sorting through all this, Taylor adjusted herself, sitting with her legs tucked under her and facing him on the couch beside him. Harry blinked at her, having forgotten that she was even in the flat still. It was all too much.

"So," Taylor said with a sweet smile. It didn't match the torn shirt and tattoos. Harry narrowed his eyes. "It's nice to have a few days off."

"Off from what?" Harry asked.

Taylor opened her mouth, then closed it. She shuddered, closed her eyes, then looked at him with a vapid smile again. "Work, of course. We should make use of the time."

Taylor lunged at him, a hand on either side of his jaw as she tried to kiss him. Harry pushed back, her lips landing on his chin instead. His eyes were wide as he put a hand on either shoulder pulling Taylor off of him. She looked at him blankly.

"You don't want to do that," Harry said.

The confused look turned into a coy smile.

"Of course I do, silly," Taylor replied, she closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and lunged forward again.

Harry fumbled to get up, letting go of Taylor's hands as she caught herself on the couch arm. She looked disoriented, but turned, wide eyed with question.

"What's wrong, Alastor?"

Harry had to think, remembering that was the name he had given the others.

"No, that's not my name."

"Yes it is," Taylor said. She blinked and stood up.

Harry crossed to the other side of the room, trying the door handle. Locked still. Taylor was at his shoulder when he turned back towards her. Whatever her commands, she meant business with it.

"No, Taylor, I can't," Harry said, holding her wrists again.

"Why not?" she asked. "Don't you want me?"

"No," Harry said.

The rejection was apparent. Her mouth hung open and her eyes saddened.

"No, I mean, it's not you," Harry said.

"Then what is it?" Taylor asked.

Harry's mind raced. He had never had to counteract the imperius curse. Not for someone else, at least. Usually the resolution was to disable the caster, but even if he could take out Astrid, they obviously had a system in place to hand off control to others. He didn't know how many were involved and needed time to assess the situation. Taylor moved closer to him, though, batting her eyelashes with her head tilted.

"Taylor, trust me, you're going to be grateful," Harry said, keeping her at arm's length.

"For what?" She whispered with a smirk.

Harry thought about the shudders and their reasoning for him. Setting them up, they had said. If they were pairing him up with someone to keep him under their control, maybe it was the other way around, too. The moments of the shudders when he asked about her and the little breaks in her demeanor when this happened had sudden clarity.

"We'll get to that," Harry said. "But let's talk for a bit first."

"Why? There are better things we can do with our lips," Taylor replied.

"Later," Harry promised. "I want to hear more about your sister, though. How old is she?"

Taylor rocked back on her heels, blinking. "Eleven," Taylor said.

"How old were you when she was born?"

Taylor thought for a while. "Seven," Taylor replied. "Almost eight. She was born a month before I turned eight."

Eighteen or nineteen, then. Forcing a middle aged man with someone that young would seem despicable if there weren't several other more distasteful aspects to this place. She was relaxing back into that smile.

"Why did you and…"

"Emily."

"Why did you and Emily come here?"

Shudder.

"We were… leaving," Taylor said.

"Leaving where?"

Taylor's eyes moved back and forth quickly. She took a step away from Harry and seemed to be concentrating very hard.

"Grandma's," Taylor said softly, like the word was poisonous.

"Where does she live?"

Harry let go of Taylor's hands as she continued to distance herself. She answered, though she was now acting like she were talking to herself. "Lived," Taylor said. "She's dead."

"Where?"

"Boston," Taylor said. "Boston where… where she died… and I heard someone talking about putting us into different homes. Emily was going to be alone."

Her breathing shortened. The veneer of flirtation was gone. It wasn't her at all, it seemed. Harry could only hope that was helping.

"Tell me about it."

"We left early," Taylor said. "It was cold. Spring, but cold. I put my coat on Emily because Grandma had never bought her a new one. We had to take the subway."

Taylor closed her eyes thinking. She swallowed. A tear pooled up between her eyelashes.

"Emily was so scared. She trusted me," Taylor said. Her eyes flew open and looked around the flat like she had just arrived. "I have to go get her."

Taylor moved towards the front door.

"No, it's locked," Harry warned. Taylor didn't listen and tried it anyway, yanking on the doorknob and pounding on the door.

"Let me out!" she shouted.

"Quiet," Harry hissed. He walked to her, grabbing her elbow.

Taylor turned and shoved him away forcefully. "You're part of it!" she accused.

Harry put up his hands, almost surprised at the sudden disconnect. He would have thought she would at least recognize him as being in the same position.

"That's not true," Harry said. "It's important they think you're still following them, Taylor."

She was pacing back and forth in front of the couch, a tortured expression. "They made me," she gasped. "They made us."

"Taylor…"

"Oh mab, why," Taylor leaned back against the wall, covering her face.

Harry moved carefully towards her. He reached out a hand, touching her upper arm. Taylor didn't move it this time as she began to cry into the heels of her hands. "It's okay," he said. "Look, it will be alright."

"It's all my fault," Taylor sobbed. "It's my… it's because of me… it's…"

She became incomprehensible as Harry stood beside Taylor, an arm around her shoulders as she continued to wrap her head around everything. "We'll figure this out," he promised, wondering where her parents were and not wanting to ask anymore questions only to upset her more. "We'll get you and Emily out of here. We'll figure it out."

* * *

Harry slept on the couch that night and found some rations in the cabinets the next morning. Enough to make some pancakes, at least, as well as some bacon in the fridge. Taylor was still asleep in the bedroom. After she calmed, she started on about going to Emily. Harry suggested they get some sleep, then start planning the next day.

Harry was finishing the first pancake when Taylor opened the bedroom door, leaning against the door jamb and rubbing at her eyes.

"How are you doing?" Harry asked, putting the first pancake and few strips of bacon onto a plate and holding it out for Taylor.

She looked at it skeptically, then took the plate, picking up a piece of bacon first, ripping at it with her teeth.

"I keep… hearing things," she said, rubbing her ear against her shoulder.

"That's the imperius," Harry told her, dropping more batter into the pan.

"The what?"

"The imperius curse," Harry said. "It's how they've been controlling you. I hear it, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "Don't tune it out. I have a feeling following their orders is better than what happens if they know the curse isn't affecting you."

"So… is Emily under the curse?" Taylor asked.

Harry licked his lips. "I think most of the people here are."

Taylor took a heaving, panicky breath. "We have to get her out of it."

"I was thinking it through last night," Harry started. "I don't know that it's a good idea to shake her from it at this point."

"What?" Taylor asked, eyes wide and color rising. "And just let her be their puppet? I don't think so."

"Listen," Harry said, turning to her, setting down the spatula. "I have no clue what we're facing here. Fill me in a bit. And we can do what we're able to, but think about how you reacted… if we can't tell her somewhere private, that could mean trouble for all of us. Her included."

"And what if someone tries to make her think she's married to some old creep," Taylor spat.

Harry pressed his lips together, ignoring the implication. "I don't think they will," Harry said.

"Don't think? What do you know?"

"Nothing," Harry admitted. "That's why it's best to leave her be for now."

Taylor huffed and pushed back in her chair. This Taylor was a far cry from the doting seeking-to-please imperius version of herself. If she hadn't been trying to snog him in that state, he would have almost thought it better to leave her that way.

"I know this isn't easy," Harry said. "Trust me, I didn't expect to be here in this position, but look… I need you if we're going to get you and everyone else out of here. Out of this."

Taylor narrowed her eyes at him. "My sister, too?"

"Your sister, too," Harry said. "You keep an eye on her however you would have normally and if something looks odd we'll intervene. But until then she might be safer as she is."

* * *

Taylor and Harry spent the rest of the day planning. Taylor had a moment of panic at the lunch hour when they still weren't released from the house and more rations appeared instead.

"What if they don't let us out ever?" Taylor demanded.

"What normally happens when that bell rings?" Harry asked, gripping her arms again, forcing her to focus. She struggled to pull her attention away from the door.

"We all go to the cafeteria," Taylor said in between deep breaths.

"That's where they feed you?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"Assigned seating? Like in the factories?"

"No," Taylor said. "I sit with Emily at lunch."

"They mentioned time off," Harry reminded Taylor. "That's probably why they aren't having us do that today, right?"

"Yeah," Taylor said reluctantly. "Yeah, probably."

Harry made sandwiches for them and they sat as she explained what she knew of the work. They had wands, she said. Wands that were controlled by someone else.

"How?" Harry asked.

"They're stuck to a… an arm thing. We don't really hold them, actually," Taylor said, concentrating.

"Do you know what spells are used?"

Taylor shook her head. "I never learned any."

Harry learned that children here went to a sort of primary school until they were around six years old. Taylor didn't know the others' story and tried to guess at how old most of those she knew were. Young, she said.

"Not old like you," she emphasized.

As Harry tried to get more information about her family and how she had been brought here, though, Taylor clammed up. He didn't push. He already had a better sense of the inner workings of this place just from the time they had talked.

"When else are you left to your own devices?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?"

"When else do you get to go wherever you want?" Harry clarified. "When else do you usually see Emily?"

"After work and before the final bell rings," Taylor said. "The last bell sends us in for the night."

With every bit of information Taylor had to concentrate, but once she had decided Harry meant well she worked hard at it. The dinner rations had just come when there were voices outside their door.

"... slept in the living room," one said. Male and gruff. Harry put a finger up to his lip.

"Well, if it was Wilma who did the original curse it probably wasn't strong enough," the second voice griped.

"Just fix it," the first person said again.

Harry expected someone to come through the door, but no one did. Instead a stronger command came. A louder voice. _Have fun. She's your wife._

Harry tried to block out what came next. More detailed ideas of what was meant by _fun_. They wanted to solidify the connection. He wondered if this really had worked for them. It must have. Harry looked over to Taylor. She was leaned back against the wall with her eyes closed and her mouth tight, taking shaky breaths.

"Taylor," Harry said.

She opened her eyes and swallowed.

"You're still you," he said quietly.

Taylor gave an uncertain nod. Harry hardly took note of the commands, assuming this was the same message Taylor was receiving. He opened the cabinets, looking at what had been placed there for the night. Potatoes and bread and, in the refrigerator, two pieces of chicken to be cooked and a bottle of wine.

Taylor dodged passed Harry, reaching for the wine. He grabbed her arm, receiving a venomous glare.

"Let me check something," he said.

Harry opened the bottle and took a sniff. Just as he suspected, it smelled distinctly of Ginny. He reached up to where the glasses were, put just enough in two different glasses to look like dregs, then dumped the rest of the bottle.

"What are you doing?" Taylor snapped.

"You don't want to drink that."

"Yes I do," she said loudly, pulling at Harry's wrist holding the bottle. Harry turned and clamped a hand on her mouth before she shouted anymore.

"It's a love potion," Harry said. "If the curse doesn't work, they're expecting this will."

Taylor let go of his hand and turned, grabbing at her hair as she walked out. Harry let her handle the commands however she needed to as he cooked their dinner. The voice slowly subsided and was back to the normal, vague suggestions by the time he was done. Taylor sat at the dining room table, giving Harry embarrassed, half glances, muttering a thanks before they both ate in silence.

When dinner was complete Harry took ice out again, repeating his tests from the night before, looking at the sparse furnishings for signs of muggle bugging.

"What are you doing?" Taylor asked.

"Trying to figure out how they knew I slept in the living room," Harry replied, still staring at the edges of the lamp. Too simple. All of the furniture and decor was far too simple to not be noticed if someone were looking for microphones or cameras. The only relief was the realization that if they knew the true extent to Harry being unaffected, they wouldn't continue down this road.

Taylor watched him as he finished. Harry refilled the ice tray and put it back into the freezer. Harry sat across the table from Taylor and looked at her, tapping a finger on the wood.

"What would like to do?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Obviously they know we weren't… with each other last night," Harry said. "I can either make it out to be me, and you can handle what you know how you'd like. I might be able to fight my way out, though to be honest I don't know what I'm up against yet."

"Or?"

"Or we stay in this together and see how much they actually know."

"We'd share the room," Taylor concluded.

"I can start by sleeping on the floor," Harry said. "They don't have any charms I know of to see us. And unless there's a muggle camera I can't find, it's not that. Regardless, I'll leave it up to you."

Taylor shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I don't want to be alone," she finally muttered, avoiding looking at him. "Especially if I can't tell Emily."

Harry nodded. "Then you won't be," he said. "Let's hold off on plans until we see if the same room thing works. Alright?"

Taylor looked towards the door and nodded in agreement. Harry took a shower, finding the plain linen clothes replacing his own when he came out. Taylor took a turn as he waited in the dining room. She opened the door for him when she was done, her hair wet as she crawled into the bed.

Harry followed, seeing the top sheet and one of the pillows already laid out for him on the space next to the bed. "Thanks," he said.

Taylor numbly nodded.

Harry laid out and took a deep breath. Taylor extinguished the lights. They laid in silence for a while.

"I can't sleep," Taylor said quietly.

"Me either," Harry replied.

"Did they give you that ring?" Taylor asked. "Your wedding ring I mean?"

"No."

"So… you have a wife? A real wife?"

"Yes."

Taylor didn't ask anything else for several minutes.

"What's she like?"

"Wonderful," Harry said. He tucked one hand behind his head. The benefit in having Taylor to worry about was how little he had been distracted that day thinking about his family. "She was raised with a lot of brothers. Smart… athletic. And kind. She's always worried about other people."

"Do you have kids together?"

"Three," Harry answered. Ron had certainly told them by now. Probably hours and hours ago. He wondered how they were doing. "James is our oldest. He just finished his fourth year at Hogwarts. Then there's Albus, who's a year younger than him, and our daughter Lily. She looks like my wife. We were supposed to be going to Peru on a holiday."

Harry continued to talk. Taylor didn't interrupt and he was sure she was asleep long before he noticed. He told her about the kids' quirks and their favorite games. He talked about Ginny's job as well as the extended Weasley family. He talked and talked, until there was nothing left to talk about and he fell asleep too.


	17. Harry at the Compound: Part 3

**A/N:** Hey all! Sorry... school. This one's a little shorter than I wanted to make it, but it's also been a lot longer than I've wanted, so I found a decent ending spot and will have another part. Again, school... it might be a bit. So enjoy! And review! I'd love to hear what you think!

 **Harry at the Compound: Part 3**

Harry made up the bed, putting his own pillow up with Taylor's as though they had both slept there. It must have been working. However they tracked people, it only gave them vague information. Each night Taylor would ask a question about his kids or Ginny and Harry would answer until both of them were asleep—her on the bed, him on the floor. There was one evening Taylor offered to switch, but as she framed it in terms of Harry's age, he insisted he was just fine. They spent their days with Taylor telling Harry everything she knew about how they lived here.

Harry had thought he knew all he could about the imperius curse, but this casual use of it was beyond what he thought was possible. People had jobs to attend to every day. Anyone under ten cleaned the flats, going in rounds to replace bedding and towels at least twice a week, not to mention sets of clothes. Anyone younger worked in laundry. They started at the age of six. Harry felt his jaw tighten at this fact. "How old were you when you came again?" he asked.

"Eleven," Taylor said.

"Did you ever have to work cleaning?" he asked.

"No," she said. Her face reddened. "Emily did."

Older than that, many were assigned to the factory floor. Taylor said something about using wands and tried to recall details about what spells, but it was clear she didn't know. She'd never had a magical education, after all. Harry also suspected this was because they were under the imperius in more forceful ways during their time working. She had much more awareness about life during meals and free time.

"Did you have tattoos before you came?" Harry asked. The more he got to know Taylor, the more believable that she might have gone to get something like a tattoo at the age of ten, but she shook her head.

"I did that with my pay," Taylor said.

"You get paid?" Harry asked.

Taylor turned and pulled a worn fabric sack, made of the same plain linen as her clothes, from a side table. "Twenty a day," Taylor said.

Harry looked at the coins. There was a simple insignia and nothing else. No dates. No words. It must have been one way to keep people satisfied under the control of the imperius. Harry was certain by now that if Emily hadn't been a primary concern for her sister, Taylor wouldn't have been shaken from her own bonds. It might just be easier for some to keep living this way, even if they were sensing reality. After all, they had shops and food and clothing. They had jobs. They had the facsimile of a life, in fact. The only thing they were missing was freedom.

Taylor was finishing her oatmeal when Harry came out, having already had his breakfast. Their vacation—or their captor's version of one—was officially over and already, Harry was sensing the commands that indicated new expectations. A voice warned him that work began in five.

Taylor stared into her bowl glumly, pushing around the last bits of sticky grains attached to the bowl and spoon. Her already pale complexion had an additional pallor as she took a deep breath.

"Come on," Harry said, taking her bowl. She let the spoon drop and he set both into the sink as Taylor went to the door. He stepped up beside her. "If you don't remember how to act, do what the others around you are doing. Just act like them."

Taylor nodded. Her eyes filled with tears.

"We'll spend the evening with Emily," Harry said. "We'll keep our eye on her."

"Right," Taylor said, her voice shaky.

Harry reached over and took her hand, holding tight. Taylor wiped at a couple tears that had fallen and stood straight, pushing away everything else as she gripped Harry's hand back. Harry had asked if there was a way to get Emily assigned to live with them, but Taylor wasn't sure that was possible. And if there wasn't a clear process, he wondered if asking would tip off their situation. So for now they couldn't try.

He opened the door and they joined the moving throng. There was a variety of reaction in the crowd. Some were stiff and directly under the curse's power. Other chatted with their friends and neighbors, greeting one another, not unlike the corridors at the Ministry each morning. Here and there, people broke off.

"That's Mrs. Partridge," Taylor nodded to a brunette entering a door on the right. "She teaches the little kids."

"Just her?" Harry asked.

"There's a nursery, but it's not like there's a lot of babies around here," Taylor replied. Her eyes were darting around them, her neck craning, trying to find Emily.

The two of them were nearing the door when a happier, smaller, and untattooed version of Taylor came into view.

"Taylor!" Emily said, running into Taylor's arms. She hugged her around the middle, but Harry watched Taylor clutch her tightly, her breath getting shorter. "Ouch," Emily finally said at being squeezed.

"Sorry," Taylor pulled back, but didn't let go of Emily's arms. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Emily said, confused. "Where have you been?"

There was a moment, a simple flash of her eyes, that Harry thought Emily's content nature seemed to break. A moment where she must have realized there was something she didn't understand. Something that she hadn't noticed. Then it was gone, she beamed at Taylor, waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, I… got to have some vacation," Taylor said.

Emily opened her mouth, then closed it, stiffening as she turned to another set of tables. Harry had almost forgotten to listen to the mundane commands. They were practically becoming white noise. He couldn't forget to listen.

"Come on," Harry said, taking Taylor's hand again and listening to the table number, trying to follow the crowds and look as though he knew what was going on. Taylor stayed in place. "She'll be in sight."

Taylor nodded uncertainly, then turned and lead the way. It was far easier than trying to find what would be their work stations on his own. "She seems happy, right?" Taylor muttered. The general noise was slowly quieting. "Do you think she'll remember all of this?"

"I don't know," Harry lied. The truth was that she would. Someday the girl would look back and everything that was happening would come sharply into focus the way it couldn't while still under the curse. He looked over to where Emily sat stiffly, waiting, hands in her lap. She was four or five tables away facing them. Her eyes met Taylor's again and she smiled. She was Lily's age. No, that wasn't quite right. Just younger than her. The realization gave Harry a moment of sympathy for Taylor. But what they had talked about before still held true: Emily was safer how she was right now. They couldn't shake her from it.

A bell rang and mechanical arms lowered with wands set into each one. There was a place to set his hand. Harry looked around. The demeanors of those around him varied. Some were completely focused under their state of control. But there were others. Others who turned to those beside them. A young man who kissed the woman's cheek on his right. A woman who whispered a joke in her neighbor's ear and got a slight chuckle before the recipient's eyes glazed back over.

That variety would help them. If he did something someone else didn't do, it would be chalked up to whatever let the others have various amounts of agency in their actions. Even better, though, Harry knew this meant that whoever was in charge here wouldn't be forever. Those holding everyone captive only had a tenuous hold.

* * *

Emily was thrilled when Taylor finally introduced Harry that first afternoon. Emily didn't even seem to notice the hesitation when Taylor used the word husband. There was only enthusiastic, unadulterated excitement for her sister. Harry was sure Emily's age and condition under the curse were both contributing factors. After all, most eleven year olds rarely made a distinction between a twenty year old and a forty year old, recognizing that both, compared to themselves, were adults.

Taylor nearly broke down that evening as the curfew bell rang and Emily turned to return to her own flat.

"Come on," Harry urged in whispers. A familiar man with sandy blonde hair was looking at them as he pulled Taylor along. Finally she turned and stomped towards their own place. Harry caught the man's eye. He was in linen clothes, but Harry wondered for a moment if they used their captives to spy on one another. He tried to give a nonchalant grin and followed Taylor along. "Does she live alone?" he asked in a mutter.

"They would have assigned an older girl to live with her by now," Taylor answered, continuing to walk quickly.

"So why not have her live with you?"

"She _was_ with me," Taylor said. She didn't expound until they turned the corner, opened their flat door, and entered. She strode to the kitchen as Harry closed the door. The lock clicked on its own. Taylor grabbed a plate from the cupboard and threw it across the kitchen, the porcelain hitting the wall in the hallway and smashing. "She was with me until they paired me with you," she said, her voice fluctuating. Their normal conversation couldn't be heard, but anyone could hear shouting. She was struggling to rein it in. It was all bubbling there just below the surface.

Taylor grabbed a glass, letting it meet its end the same way as the plate. Harry stepped over and held her wrist as she reached for another.

"Emily's safe," Harry said quietly.

"She doesn't know—"

"None of them do," Harry said. "But she has food, shelter, clothing… and I don't see anything that puts her in direct trouble. We'll take care of the rest. We can't do that if they figure out they don't have control of you before we learn anything."

Over the next week, Taylor calmed incrementally and they were making note of the various places that the normal members of the compound never went into. Every building had at least one small tower lookout, manned at all times. The place he had been taken by Wilma the first day seemed to be the hub for the employees. At least the ones who knew what they were doing. Harry had seen and tracked several dozen, but they were often hidden away behind doors he couldn't access without a wand. The ones that he had heard talk all had Australian accents, confirming what he had long since figured. His family, his wife, were halfway across the world from him.

In the mundane hours of work, Harry could think of little besides what his wife and children were doing. He couldn't imagine Ginny would have taken them to Peru under the circumstances, though part of him hoped she had. He kept thinking about how important that vacation was to Ginny and how his work had been threatening their time together. And now, for the life of him, he couldn't remember what was so urgent at work that would have made that so. Of course he remembered this case, but there were plenty of cases that were left to others when he took a holiday or was out of the office.

Harry tried to track when he started working more hours. It had to have been October or November. They were planning to spend some extra time at the Burrow at Christmas, so he worked longer days so he could alternately have more days off in December. But he never took those days, he remembered now. He didn't think on it much then. Some of his other employees were taking extra holiday time too, and Harry took some half days, going in during the mornings. After all, the kids were playing with their cousins and there was still lots of time with the family when he got back home.

"Sorry, Ginny," Harry had said on Christmas Eve when he got an owl that Kennedy had gone into the office to deal with an emergency. "I just have to go check on this."

"Don't be too long," Ginny said.

It's the first time Harry could remember her voice being edged with impatience concerning him heading into work. That's when the decline began.

Over and over these little moments replayed in Harry's memory. A Saturday that they were supposed to go see George and Angelina. A Sunday brunch with Ron and Hermione. A night in, that he sent an owl to let Ginny know he wouldn't be home until late. At the time he thought he was doing the right thing. The times Ginny seemed upset, he tried to make it up to her, but it didn't keep him from getting and staying involved in the ongoings of the various cases his employees were working on. And now, with all the things he could remember, the details of that work was the one thing he couldn't recall. He had banked so much of his time and energy on the idea that it was vital work he performed. Now he realized it was nothing.

Taylor was becoming more and more like a partner in their efforts during the day. They held hands, like the happy couple their captors expected them to be in the public spaces. Once in awhile Harry would kiss her cheek for good measure. In private, she'd warmed up to him enough that one day she even held a fist between them. Harry smirked. Taylor just shook the fist and raised an eyebrow. Harry lifted his own, bumping it against hers.

They were almost done with a map when the first hiccup came two weeks in. They had worked most of the day already. The bell for dinner to commence was only an hour away when a man started to shake the woman beside him.

"Isabelle," he said loudly in the factory. She was ignoring him as he stood, letting go of his wand. "Isabelle, where are we?"

She continued to work, one item in front of another moving along the belt in front of her station. Two of the larger supervisors moved towards them. Emily was three seats to the frantic man's left, looking on, as were several people around them—all glazed over, but distracted.

"Harry," Taylor said shakily under her breath.

Harry shushed her, watching with narrowed eyes.

"Isabelle!" the man was shouting loudly now. Taylor was about to stand. Harry grabbed her wrist to keep her from moving. The two men grabbed the man as he yelled, spit flying from his mouth as he pushed against them. He was so twiggy and ill equipped that they carried him from the floor easily. His yelling became distant as those distracted slowly turned back to their work. Harry kept the shadows of the three in the corner of his eye. Through a frosted window he saw the distinct green flash and one of the three figures fell.

"Harry," Taylor groaned again under the breath.

Harry swallowed and turned forward looking over and seeing that Emily was working again. Between her station and theirs the sandy haired man was looking at him, their eyes meeting.

"Keep working," he said. Harry was certain he would have to repeat the reasoning to Taylor that night as a result of this. He had figured before this that those who snapped out of the imperius's control were in danger, but even he felt sick, wondering who Isabelle was to that man, and who that man was to Isabelle. He wondered how long he had known what was happening. And he looked at Emily. If it had been her, Harry would have acted. He felt guilty that he already had a priority list here. Yet somehow, even though he hardly knew Emily (hardly knew Taylor) he felt more responsible for them than the others. He swallowed and kept working.

 _Sorry I'm so late, Ginny_ , he thought while letting the charms flow through him. _I didn't mean to. I got engrossed in this case and I meant to be home to help with dinner. Let's go away this weekend. We'll drop the kids at your parents'. Just you and me, Ginny_.

The imaginary conversation got him through the day. They left and Taylor went to Emily without him. He hung back, heading their direction as everyone moved towards the cafeterias for dinner. He had just watched Taylor and Emily go through the door when someone knocked into his shoulder. On impulse, Harry reached for a wand that wasn't there in a pocket that didn't exist.

"Sorry," the blonde man he'd caught the attention of a couple times said, though he didn't look apologetic. He kept looking at Harry.

"It's alright," Harry said, narrowing his eyes back.

"Nice weather right?" the man asked, a German accent out of place here, where very few seemed to be from non-English speaking countries. Mostly Australian, some Americans like Taylor, and several British. He didn't break Harry's gaze.

"Very," Harry replied. "Warming up a bit, it seems."

"It's warmer down south in Duwick," the man said.

"Duwick?"

"Little town I've heard about," he said. "You been there?"

Harry concentrated and shook his head. "Haven't travelled much at all around here. You?"

"Someday," the man said.

"Alastor," Harry introduced himself, reaching out a hand, still unsure what the German man's intent in talking to him was.

"Fritz," he replied, taking Harry's hand and shaking it. "I think your wife is waiting for you."

Harry looked over where Taylor and Emily were sitting. Taylor's attention hadn't left her sister after the events of that day, but Emily smiled and waved at him. He turned back and Fritz was already walking quickly away, heading to the other end of the cafeteria. Harry almost followed, then saw as Fritz passed by at least two of the supervisors. One of them had killed that man today.

Fritz wasn't going anywhere, Harry reminded himself. They were all stuck here. He walked over to Taylor, keeping Fritz in the corner of his eye.

"Who was that?" Taylor asked.

"A friend, I think," Harry replied as he sat.

Taylor didn't say anything else as Emily told them stories of what her and her flat mate had done the night before.


	18. Harry at the Compound: Part 4

**A/N:** Hello all! Semester is over and here is the final part of this little addition. I didn't want to drag it out too much longer, so it's a rather long chapter. I hope you enjoy! I had a fuzzy little bunny sitting in for _Albus Potter and the American_ too, so that one will be coming (hint: some drama dealing with the birth of Ivy) and then maybe a new long format story... at some point. Thanks all for the reviews and support! Leave a review if you enjoy!

 _ **Harry at the Compound: Part 4**_

To Harry's surprise, Taylor became disconnected, rather than fighting back on telling Emily. When Emily told them she had plans with her flatmate, Taylor allowed her to go, watching her walk through the crowds towards her own place. It looked uncannily like Ginny when she watched each of their children carried away by the Hogwarts Express each September. Resignedly, Taylor turned and pushed through the mingling crowd. Harry followed behind towards their house.

"Did you want to go get dinner?" Harry asked her as they stepped inside.

"No," she said quietly. Taylor sunk onto the couch and held a pillow to her chest. Harry sat beside her and just waited. He didn't try and give her comfort or issue advice. He just waited. "I can't keep her safe."

"I think you've done a good job so far," Harry said.

Taylor shook her head. "No, I've failed," Taylor said. Her eyes didn't water as they had before. There was pure dejection. "I couldn't keep her from being hurt before this either. And I have to stay away or she's going to snap out of it too. And what if it happens in the middle of work like that?"

Harry took a deep breath and Taylor leaned back, her head resting at an odd angle as she stared at the ceiling. They sat like this for a while before there was a knock at the door. Taylor's head snapped up.

The curfew bell hadn't rung yet, but they had never had visitors. Harry wasn't even sure if that was normal. He'd never thought to ask. Taylor's eyes were focused, but Harry was the one that stood and walked to the door. He cracked it open, his eyes once again meeting those of the young German man, Fritz. Harry didn't ease as he opened the door.

"Can we help you?" he asked.

"I'm trying to get to know my neighbors a little better," Fritz said. "Can I come in?"

Harry opened the door. The nice thing about having such minimal accommodations was that he didn't need to worry about anything being out that shouldn't be seen. Taylor was sitting stiffly and watched Fritz enter.

"This is Fritz," Harry said. "Fritz, Taylor."

Fritz gave a curt nod and made himself comfortable on the other edge of the couch. "How much do you know?" he asked, leaning forward, palms pressed on his knees and looking at Harry.

"About what?" Harry asked.

"I know they've lost you," Fritz said. Taylor looked to Harry and he wondered if she had just blown any cover he could make. Her look clearly told Fritz he was right. Yet, he hadn't looked away from Harry.

"Explain," Harry said. It was neither a confession, nor a denial.

"They lost me, too," Fritz said. There seemed to be excitement in his voice. "But they don't know it yet. I've been collecting information for the better part of the year."

Harry relaxed a little. Only a little.

"What have you found out?" Harry said.

"A lot," Fritz said. "And I'm risking it all, hoping you aren't some plant they hired from Duwick."

"Duwick?" Taylor asked.

"It's the wizarding town near Melbourne," Fritz said. "The workers talk about a resistance there. Godfrey is trying to find them."

"Godfrey?" Harry asked this time.

"He's the man they all report to," Fritz said.

Taylor and Harry looked at each other. Taylor's steely resolve was returning, growing over the despair.

"We don't have any information to provide you," Harry admitted. "I haven't been here long enough and Taylor just came to herself recently. We've been keeping our heads down to not raise suspicions."

"I have plenty of information," Fritz said. "What I need is support."

"Fat chance—"

"Taylor," Harry said, then turned back to Fritz. "What do you mean by support?"

"No one stands a chance alone. We're in the middle of nowhere and I have been waiting for others. It will improve survival."

"So you want to team up?"

"I've seen you," Fritz said. "They never bring anyone so old."

"I'm thirty-eight," Harry snapped, tired of the that word being used as such a blanketed description. "Thirty-eight isn't old."

Fritz and Taylor exchanged a look this time, Taylor shrugging at Fritz. Harry let out an exasperated breath.

"I get it, I'm older than their usual stock. Got that early on. So?"

"You know how to use a wand?" Fritz asked.

"Of course."

"I was fifteen when I came," Fritz said. "My grandfather taught me a few things before he died, but it hadn't really been useful spells."

"It doesn't matter either way," Taylor replied. "They took Harry's wand."

"Harry?"

"I had told him my name was Alastor," Harry said with a sigh. He walked over to the dining nook, grabbing a chair and bringing it back to face the other two. "I guess if we're working together, though, you might as well know."

Fritz nodded, a smile growing.

"So tell us what you got," Taylor said.

* * *

Fritz had been invaluable and pushed efforts forward like nothing else could have. If he hadn't revealed himself to Harry and Taylor, it could have been months, or even years, before they learned everything Fritz already observed. More than just listening, Fritz proved to be adept and breaking into places where they were not allowed.

A building on the south side of the compound contained many business documents. For many months Fritz had gone in once or twice a week and gathered intel.

"I couldn't ever stay long," Fritz said. "Weekends there are less staff. If I could tell when the guard would change, it would give me a bit of time and a look at a few items."

Fritz carried around a worn notebook he had stolen from one of the workers, filled with notes, names, and monikers of people the owner, Godfrey, had reached out to work with. He kept it on him at all times.

"If one of the brats found it while cleaning, it might end up back in the supervisor's hands," Fritz explained.

"What about the other buildings?"

"They're better protected," Fritz said. "Codes and needing wands and actually that's another problem. We need wands."

"We could get one easily," Harry said.

"No, all of us," Fritz said.

"Why? It's not like you or me could do anything," Taylor said.

"It's the dome," Fritz explained, turning to a crude map he had drawn. "It kills you if you don't have a wand."

"I guess the desert wasn't enough for them," Harry replied.

"Well, there's a few hidden spots in the wild. There's a map in the offices," Fritz said. "I can get us there, but we have to get beyond the dome first. Hence wands."

Harry looked through a growing ledgers of potential partners. He found himself legitimately relieved when he saw the Malfoy's name and the word _refused_ next to it. Someone in England was working for Godfrey, though. The portal that brought him here said as much, but most of the names either refused or had their memories wiped according to Fritz's copy of the records he had fought. Harry figured Godfrey kept the more damning information locked up in the main tower.

A couple weeks in Harry noticed a fairly steady in and out of owls from the highest floor of that place. Always headed south.

"They wouldn't want floo," Harry told Taylor. "The owls are probably their only quick messaging system without also giving a way for someone to get out so easily."

They continued to have Fritz over to their place. They made a point of the meetings being sporadic and unpredictable. He would leave before curfew and Harry would end the sessions with assignments each had to discover specific information before they met again.

Taylor threw herself into these efforts. They talked about everything in code.

"For breakfast tomorrow I thought I could make eggs in a nest," Taylor said.

The nest was the main tower.

"Can you do it and leave the shells intact?"

"You know I can't," she replied.

"Then I don't think I'll be in the mood for that," Harry replied.

Taylor huffed, but didn't argue. It wasn't time to get in there yet, but he would know when. Once they could get wands for all of them. Once they had a strategy to stay ahead of being caught. Then they would get the wands necessary and get beyond the dome. Harry could side along apparate with them from there. He kept telling them just how difficult that would be if they didn't have the same intent as him. They would need to be firmly set, or they would be at risk of splinching.

"I'd rather be splinched and free," Taylor retorted after Harry explained exactly what that meant.

"And Emily?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She sulked the rest of the night.

Harry had lost track of just how many days it had been. All he knew is that his dreams of Ginny grew more and more vivid the longer he was gone. He wished he had some way to talk to her. In quiet hours when little could be done, he composed one letter after another in his mind. When he got into that tower he was going to have the perfect words for her. She would let the others know and they would get everyone out of this place as soon as possible.

* * *

"Did you remember to check the calendar?" Harry asked the next morning as they met up with Fritz in the throng heading into work.

"July twenty-fifth," Fritz said.

Harry nodded. It was a day with thinned numbers. It was the day they would get out. Just less than a month since Harry first arrived.

"You remember what to do?" Harry asked.

"I have it all lined up," Fritz confirmed. "Beginning just after dinner."

"Before too many people have gotten to their flats," Harry said. "Taylor will look for records once we get into the main tower. The longer you keep them running in circles, the more we can find out."

Fritz didn't look at him as he nodded and turned to a different table than their own. Taylor breathed heavily as they went about an otherwise normal day.

"Watch it," Harry muttered under his breath, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

Taylor swallowed back and got her nerves under control. Harry looked at the workers. Wilma was there that day. She was, by far, the laziest worker at the compound. Every twenty minutes she was taking a smoking break, whining about an aching back and huffing at her co-workers. Harry kept her in the corner of his eye, nodding towards her in the early afternoon, glad she was staying and not calling in a replacement.

The final bell rang and there was the noise of everyone standing. Taylor was on her toes, trying to see passed everyone to where Emily was.

"It's now or never," Harry said.

"I just—"

"We'll be back for her," he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her along. Wilma had just walked right, meaning she didn't want to be found taking yet another break.

Once Emily was well out of her line of sight, Taylor regained focus, taking the lead as they weaved in and out of the slower crowds.

"Carefully," Harry said. "Don't draw attention."

Taylor slowed a little, looking more like someone anxious to eat. The double doors to the cafeteria were in sight and they went left instead. A couple leaned up against the wall on the side of the building, kissing one another as the two of them passed. They turned into the alley. One of the men was there, wand to his side.

Taylor thought more quickly than Harry, pushing him up against the stone archway, guiding his hands to her hips and moving her nose along his, never quite kissing him, but looking a lot like they couple they had just seen. Harry played along, pulling her in by the waist as she leaned up, her lips by his ear.

"Perv," she whispered.

"You started it," Harry retorted, seeing the guard move to the right, disappearing. Harry loosened his grip and Taylor rocked back on her heels. "Quick thinking."

She lead the way again, walking through the shops, the increasing traffic giving them better coverage here.

There was the loud sound of an explosion to the west.

"I guess Fritz had to skip the first," Harry said and they picked up their pace. The workers ignored them completely now, running to continuing popping explosions. In the records building, Fritz had found stocks of clothes, games, and personal effects that had been taken from incoming prisoners. No wands, but when he brought up a series of small fireworks (some of which Harry had recognized as Weasley products), Harry knew just the distraction they had been searching for. By the time they were in the employee tower, the second set of explosions should be well underway, then the third before they got out, assuming Fritz never got back to the original first spot. Harry had to assume they lost out on that extra bit of time. The good thing was, the west location was farther from where they were.

Wilma was as predictable as they had come to realize, smoking in a niche just on the outside of the northeast corner of the compound. Just far enough away not to be caught and reprimanded.

Taylor moved across the other way while Harry stayed on the corner, edging back to avoid notice. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating.

"Hey, whatcha doin' here," Wilma snapped. Harry peeked around the corner. Wilma had turned completely towards Taylor. Taylor blinked at her stupidly, just as they had planned. Harry moved along the wall, seeing Wilma's wand sticking out of her back pocket. "Get back to your flat. Go on, off with you."

Harry reached for her back pocket just as she turned, his hand grasping her pudgy arm instead.

"What the—"

Taylor shoved Wilma's opposite shoulder hard, keeping her from knowing just how to direct her attention. Harry reached for her wand as she shouted.

"Escaped! They've escaped!"

" _Stupify!_ " Harry shouted and her body hit the brick wall, slumping down with her face slackening.

"More attention than we wanted," Taylor muttered.

Harry didn't waste time agreeing. He disillusioned Taylor first, then himself just as they heard footsteps along the alley they had come from. Harry held onto Taylor's hand, holding her back while the other workers investigated.

"That way," the man in charge directed. "Assume we have runners."

The workers all spread out, but headed in a generally north direction. Harry and Taylor eased along the wall, getting to the alley and making their way towards the center tower. They were stopped twice by groups of two or three of the workers, wands out and searching. Harry had been hoping at least one of them would have had their wands more accessible. They weren't detoured, getting to the door of the main tower.

The owls. Harry's heart pounded. He would finally have a chance to send Ginny something—anything—to let her know he was fighting to get home. That he would be there soon. As soon as possible. He waved Wilma's wand in front of the door, breathing a sigh of relief as the keypad appeared. Of all the weaknesses in their plan, the biggest was not knowing what other charms may have stopped them right here.

9-4-4-7-3

Harry pressed the numbers and eased the door open as little as possible. He felt it push back as Taylor slipped through first and then he followed right behind. Feet were sounding on the spiral steps downward.

"Here!" Taylor shouted, taking a door to the right that he had hardly noticed his first time in.

They went in just as the feet passed them by. He let out a breath looking around. Filing cabinets. Lots of them. He felt the buzz of magic in here. These were important. He went to one drawer, pulling on it gently. It opened right up, no problem. Harry realized the magic was to destroy these files when necessary, not to protect them from initial views. He shuffled.

"What's here?"

"More business records, it looks like," Harry said, shuffling through labeled folders of months and places. "Invoices and pay stubs. Odd."

He pulled one drawer after another until he saw _Great Britain_ scrawled on the front label. He started to peruse the information. His head began to hurt as he saw the records of names and ages, children who had been taken from their homes. Further back were names of workers: orphanage workers selling children to Godfrey. Citizens, luring them to portals like the one that had brought him here. He froze.

Jeremy Updike.

Jeremy had worked under Harry for the last decade. He had been a quiet contributor to the department. A quintessential yes man. It was one of the reasons Harry hadn't thought of him for promotions in the past. If someone was going to lead, they needed to be willing to do what was necessary, rather than agree with whatever was presented to them. He had worked in the Law department long before then. Harry looked at the pay stub, read through little notes. Reports. The most recent were about him.

 _Harry Potter is still missing. If you have not found him, then we must start to assume he ended up somewhere else by fault of the portal. Please inform. It will be better for everyone if he doesn't surface again._

Harry felt his face getting hot. He'd had Updike over for dinner. Ginny had invited his wife to tour the _Daily Prophet_. Harry had given him a week off when his father was hospitalized, fighting for him to get his normal pay, even though his time off was technically used up.

"What's wrong?" Taylor asked. "Harry, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Harry said, coming to himself. He was wasting time.

He moved around the room, opening one drawer after another. There was an abandoned wand between two cabinets on the floor. It looked worn and it was another step in the right direction. "Where are you?" Harry asked.

"Here," Taylor hissed. "Right here."

Harry groped around, finding her shoulder and passing her the second wand.

"I don't know any spells," Taylor said.

"You still need it for the dome," he reminded her.

Harry carefully opened the door again, listening for anyone else. They started up the steps, Taylor keeping a hand on his back as they went up. Harry heard Astrid's voice from the first landing, the main station's doorway was cracked open.

"Just find whoever is setting the damned things off!" she shouted.

"We're try—"

"Just do it!"

She slammed something onto the desk as they went towards the third level. Harry had a scrap of paper from Fritz's notebook in his back pocket. He realized as they got to the owlry that he should have been looking for a quill along with wands. He never could write on paper without setting it on fire with his own. He'd never thought it an important skill.

He pulled out the paper, removing his and Taylor's disillusionment. She went to the window on the right, peeking out.

"The third one's already set off," she said. "We don't have much time. And we still need another wand."

Harry wanted to write a long letter. He wanted to express what he had been thinking for the last several weeks. He wanted to leave Ginny with some sort of comfort. But suddenly he realized he couldn't.

If Updike knew he went missing and was looking for signs of him, he would have something to notify him of odd owls coming Ginny's way. Ron's too, for that matter. Updike would tag anyone he would consider obvious. He needed to be sure to obscure the message, too. His heart broke, knowing he couldn't give his family anything. Instead he pricked one finger with a charm, blood rising to his fingertip. Harry pressed the paper against the wall and thought for a moment.

He started with the symbol on the coin. It was Godfrey's logo and certainly was traceable, if obscure to them. Second, he included the Malfoy coat of arms, or a messy version of it. Harry didn't know what Draco or his family really knew, but they had some interaction with Godfrey, which was more than anyone else Ginny might know. Harry paused, thinking there had to be more. He looked over to Taylor. Carefully, he drew out the symbol in the middle of her banded tattoo. If everything went right, this one was pointless, but Harry knew better than to count on things going well. If there had been a symbol that pointed to Fritz, he would have included that too. As it were, they had already spent too long in here.

Harry folded up the paper, binding the edges to hold. He addressed it sloppily to Neville Longbottom and pulled off his wedding ring.

 _I'll be home soon_ , he thought, as though thinking it would send all his love as much as if he'd had the chance to write a four page missive. He dropped the ring and gave it to an owl, sending it off.

"He sent up sparks!" Taylor said. Fritz had found a wand.

"Alright, let's go," Harry said. "Quietly."

"You going to make us invisible again?"

"Once we're out there, Fritz will need to see us."

Taylor went carefully down the steps, Harry behind.

"Wait there, I'm coming," Astrid said.

Harry pointed his wand towards the door, shutting and locking it. Astrid yelled, cursing from inside.

"Go," Harry urged and Taylor moved faster. As they came to the bottom someone opened the entrance. He stunned them, making them fall backwards. He moved in front of Taylor, stunning two more workers before they were clear, moving through the crowds, keeping their heads down heading south.

They weaved in and out. The sparks were still flying where Fritz had been. Harry was worried until he saw Fritz at the rendezvous point.

"They're distracted," Fritz said, keeping pace with Harry and Taylor as they left behind the buildings for endless sand on the south side of the compound.

"Hurry then!" Taylor yelled over her shoulder, moving faster.

It wasn't long before Harry's feet burned. The shoes were thin and didn't hold up to the sand, even now in the winter season of Australia. None of them stopped. They all held their wand hand out, pressing onward. They were running for what seemed like an hour when the alarms were set off back at the compound, but they already knew there were runners.

"It's coming up," Fritz said. "It has to be."

Harry looked over his shoulder. The workers were on brooms, flying low to the ground and turning from little dark dots against the grey buildings of the compound, to distinct figures.

"Faster," Harry urged them. There was a vague buzzing of the field ahead of them, one that only years as an Auror trained him to sense the flickerings of. He gave a jolt of energy, grabbing Fritz's arm and calling after Taylor. He looked back. Their pursuers were gaining on them. "Go through carefully. I'll cover you."

"But—"

"There's no time, Taylor," Harry said. "Don't look back. Either of you. Understand?"

Taylor lunged at him, hugging around his middle and closing her eyes tight. Harry patted her back. Fritz was watching the fliers.

"Go," Harry said, pushing her away. "Go!"

He watched as Fritz grabbed Taylor's hand and stepped quickly forward, holding his wand outward. As the tip touched the field, an opening was created and Harry turned back.

Harry steeled himself, waving the wand wide and making a barrier. The first person hit it, falling clumsily as the others pulled short. He held onto it, even as the he felt it cracking under the pressure of the spells hitting it. There were more figures flying there way. His only shot was to disable as many of them as possible as they came.

He let down the shield, sending stunning spells, jinxes, curses, and anything else that came to mind. He moved forward, meeting the new group. He was breaking down their defenses, but others were coming to. Harry took one look over his shoulder, seeing the little figures of Taylor and Fritz disappear into the desert scene and he let out a breath. As he turned back, Astrid sneered at him, raising her wand and slashing it across, hitting him in the chest. He fell back, his wand dropping. He held to his chest and tried to stand.

Astrid's sneer had become a smirk. "You have an interesting long game," she said. "But it ends now."

"Does it?" Harry retorted, looking at the wand still in the sand. The wind was picking up, dusting just over it. "There are others going to the authorities as we speak."

Astrid laughed. "The authorities don't have influence here," she said. "Besides, are you sure they aren't just going to get eaten? There are some nasty beasts out in the Australian desert."

Harry took a breath and lunged for the wand. His hand didn't touch it again as the world went black.

* * *

Fritz remembered the spell to produce water, which was the only reason they were alive three days later. They wandered the space he knew was cloaked, but couldn't go very far without him losing confidence in his knowledge of where this began and ended.

"Don't you know any spells for food?" Taylor moaned, leaning against the only tree they had found. Fritz had insisted she stay in its shade, only allowing him respite at night.

"No," he answered, saving his words. He knew there were rules to that, but he didn't remember what they were. Regardless, they would have to find their food. Fritz had pulled off a couple leaves from the tree, but they could do little more than chew the fibrous green. There wasn't anything of substance. "I think we're going to have to keep moving."

"Okay," Taylor said, leaning her head back against the trunk rather than standing.

"Move," Fritz said, his accent growing stronger. "Taylor, get up."

He had to bend down, shaking her awake. He pulled her to her feet and the two of them stumbled along. It wasn't even the hottest time of year, and their feet were blistered, their skin red.

"Emily," Taylor gasped. "I think… I think she's still safe, right? Emily's safe."

"Of course," Fritz said, having no clue if that were true. Taylor became deadweight. The wind burned Fritz's lip as he collapsed under both of their weight. He looked down, realizing Taylor's eyes were closed. "Don't die," he begged. "Taylor. Taylor?"

He patted her cheek, feeling less focused. Fritz looked up, seeing a single dark figure heading towards them. Fritz got unsteadily to his feet, holding up his wand. "Don't come closer," he said. Then passed out as well.

When Fritz woke, he was laid out in a twin sized bed with a red and white quilt covering him. He looked across and saw Taylor sitting up, wearing pajamas instead of the linen clothes and holding a bowl in her hands. He blinked, clearing his vision.

"He's up," a young girl with bright blonde hair said. "Dakota, he's awake!"

There were others moving around. He closed his eyes again, taking more labored breaths as someone sat on the edge of his mattress. The back of their soft fingers touched his cheek. "You hungry?" a sweet, Australian voice asked.

Fritz opened his eyes, certain he was seeing a vision. Straw blonde hair and a kind, soft face looked down at him.A face he knew. He had been going about the compound without a care. He had gone because his grandfather had died and he was promised good work that would keep him out of the orphanage in Germany. Mostly it was fine. He was satisfied. Until he saw her.

Fritz had tried every day to approach her. She was lovely and her smile could set his heart racing. Only she lived so far from him in the compound. And he didn't know if she had someone already. So Fritz waited. And then her smile faded. He saw it less and less. The look of distress disturbed him until one day she was gone and he had to know why. So he started looking. She had woken him from his long sleep. She was his angel.

And here she was in front of him. The woman from the compound. The angel. He stared at her, unable to move.

"Ya," he groaned.

"Imogen, go get me some more soup for him," the angel requested.

"His name is Fritz," Taylor said, moving the spoon to her lips again.

"Fritz?" the angel said. "Fritz, why don't you sit up. I'll help you."

Fritz would do whatever she asked, he realized. He pushed himself onto his elbows and the angel supported him as he continued to move. She reached around him, placing more pillows behind his back, making it easier to sit.

"Wow, he's actually going to make it," a man in a chair near Taylor said.

"You don't have to sound so surprised, Eben," came another woman.

"Taylor was a whole lot better off," Eben replied. "I mean, you guys were out there the same time right?"

"He made me sit in the shade when we could find it," Taylor said.

"Not to worry," the angel spoke to him directly again, pushing back the hair from his face. "Mrs. Gertrude hasn't had a patient here she couldn't fix up. It's just lucky Peter found you two when he did."

"I'm not worried," Fritz muttered. "So long as you're here."

Fritz leaned back again. Eben laughed.

"Bonkers," he said, but the angel just tilted her head.

"I'll be here," she said.

Imogen brought the bowl and the angel steadied his hand as he ate and drank. The others talked around them, but all Fritz could see was her. His angel.

* * *

Harry had been held in a stone cell for three days. Food and water were pushed through a slot and there was a urinal and bucket for everything else. That they didn't kill him straight off meant something. What, he wasn't sure. It could mean he was going to become a public example. Or that they had intercepted his owl and wanted an explanation. Or that they were still trying to decide what to do with him. The only thing that got to Harry was when he wondered if Updike would be involved in his fate. He'd kick the walls, then, and clench his teeth. He couldn't wait to get back to England and throw Updike in Azkaban. He dreamed of that nearly as much as he did for his family.

He wondered if Neville had gotten his owl yet. He wondered if Neville had passed it along to Ron or Ginny. He wondered if his kids were okay, or if Updike would target them. It seemed against the logic of this place. Too many people noticeably missing and there would be problems and questions and trails.

On the fourth day, Astrid entered his cell, not saying a word before binding his hands behind his back forcibly. He didn't argue or respond in any way. She moved behind him, pointing her wand at his back, marching him along. Just outside the doors were two bodyguards. Too many to fight off without a wand. He moved, being taken through the streets. They were passing the factory windows when Harry looked over and saw Emily's eyes meet his. They were vacant, though she tilted her head. He thought of Taylor and swallowed as Emily turned back to her work. If he could get out, he would take Emily with him this time. He wouldn't leave her alone in this place.

They were moving beyond the compound, only west this time. There were new buildings. Or ones that Fritz hadn't included in his schematics. Harry wasn't sure which. They continued to lead him to the nearest tower, through a door, and across a thin bridge. For a moment, Harry wondered if they were just going to throw him over the edge, but instead they moved up and into a blinding white room. Harry squinted against the light as he entered.

"You'll adjust," a heavy, Australian voice said from the edges of the room.

"Who are you?"

"I own this place," the man said, jovial and with a great deal of pride.

"Godfrey."

"I'm so glad you've heard of me, Harry," he said. Harry straightened. They had put aside Alastor officially. "I've heard all about you. I mean, much later than I wish I had."

Godfrey looked at Astrid, who averted her eyes. So their play was to use him. He would be a bargaining chip whenever Fritz and Taylor got to Duwick and informed their Ministry what was happening.

"You've figured it out, haven't you?" Godfrey asked, amused and impressed. It was all rather affectatious. "Yes, they told me you were a smart one. Or at least used to this kind of work. If it's any consolation, the fact that Updike didn't report the fluke in his last job means a pay penalty. A lot of people are getting penalized for failing to tell me, of course. Shouldn't have let you stay there as a loose canon."

"We tested—"

"And he fooled you," Godfrey cut off Astrid loudly. He composed himself before he turned back to Harry. "But good news! I have a reliable way to hold you, you know. All that cell nonsense relies on the same morons who let you be a normal citizen here give you some way to escape. Not in this room."

Harry glared at him as he waited.

"Aren't you going to ask me what it is?"

"You're going to tell me anyway," Harry replied.

"True," Godfrey said. "It's such a shame having to work with all this great wizarding equipment in secret. Can you imagine the business your people would get if I showed off its potential to muggles? Just think of it."

"You're the reason our people separated ourselves long ago."

"Ah, so he does have self-righteous rhetoric loaded up," Godfrey said with a chuckle. "Anyway, I have a meeting to get to at two, so I'll make this quick. No more food. It isn't needed here. You'll be fine. I mean, mostly. It's all still a little… mysterious. But what I do know is you'll survive. You just focus on you in here. We'll bring you out when you're useful.

Harry narrowed his eyes as Godfrey as he walked out of the room, passed the three people who had brought him here. Astrid waved her wand, releasing Harry from his ties and she closed the door on him.

Harry walked around the parameter of the room. There were no obvious door openings. Even where they had let him in was sealed shut now. It was polygonal in shape, even moving up and over him. Harry moved to the center of the room and laid out on the floor, hoping Taylor and Fritz came through soon.

The minutes seemed like hours, the hours seemed like days, and the days… By the time Harry tried to think in days, time seemed incomprehensible. At some point he thought about the people who he had run with, but couldn't remember their names. One had been… living with him. She hadn't cared for him. Or had she? Harry couldn't remember.

The longer he sat, the more gaps developed. He started telling himself stories, trying to recall. "And then Ginny's mum… Her mum… she got me something for Christmas…" Harry thought. He couldn't remember her name. He knew that. He _knew_ it.

And it struck. This place was sucking every memory from him. Panic set in, wondering at what point he would forget everything and everyone important to him. This was more than just a good prison because he didn't need food. It was a good prison because eventually he wouldn't need anything. Harry stood, thinking very hard.

"Ron is my best friend. I went through everything with him. We fought spiders and deatheaters and he brought me into his family. He's married to Hermione, who has been through just as much with us. She's smart. She's the Head of law. Ginny's my wife. We have three children: James, Albus, and… And… Lily." He had a moment of shock as Lily's name took so long to come. "They are about to start a new year at Hogwarts."

Harry talked himself through stories, but soon, he couldn't remember much more than names, a flash of an image coming to mind with each. "Ron, Hermione, Ginny, James, Albus, Lily, Teddy, Arthur and... and his wife," he listed off over and over again. "Ron, Hermione, Ginny, James, Albus, Lily, Teddy... Ron, Hermione, Ginny, James, Albus, Lily."

Life was nothing but the flashes and names, the only things preoccupying him. The only things that could if he wasn't going to lose them.

One day, in the middle of these flashes, color surrounded him, he was laid out in a room he didn't recognize, in a bed he didn't know. He stopped talking and blinked, facing the long mane of red hair he would know anywhere. Harry reached up, noticing his glasses were missing, yet somehow he could see just fine. He moved, breathing Ginny in, the scent of her shampoo so clear and distinct. He watched her breathe in and out.

Ginny moved onto her back, covering her face and taking in a deep breath. He didn't move as she turned towards him, her face so incredibly close to his. "Hello," he whispered, watching her brown eyes dart back and forth between his uncertainly.

"Hi," Ginny replied.

Harry wished he had more to say. All he knew was that if they had even five more minutes together, he wasn't going to waste it doing any more than holding her.

"I've missed you," he told her.

Ginny moved steadily, examining him, reaching up for a lock of his hair. He pressed his lips on her wrist, moving slow in case she disappeared.

"I've missed you, too," Ginny said, her face still filled with shock.

Harry pulled her into him, moving his lips against hers. "I've only thought of you, you know. And the kids. It's all that's on my mind." He didn't know how to explain more than that. Not without upsetting her. It was all he could distill it down to.

Ginny closed her eyes, her face against his. Harry couldn't close his. He tried to memorize every freckle. The way the edges of her nose blended into her cheek. How she rubbed her lips together. Had he noticed it before? Was that something he had forgotten? Was it something he'd failed to see? He saw it now.

"I'm sorry I…"

Her voice became distant as she talked.

"Shhh," Harry said. His mind was becoming foggy. "It's not time for apologies. The kids will be here soon enough, I think."

Ginny kept talking, but everything became fuzzy around the edges. He could see her. Like the flash of her face. It's all that was left. He heard a knocking.

"You better get that," Harry said.

Ginny turned away from him and he fell. It was like falling in a dream and waking up, sweating and uncertain. He looked around the bright white room and took a few deep breaths. Something else was missing now. He knew it. Harry clutched his eyes shut and swallowed.

"Ginny, James… Al… Albus, Lily. Ginny, James, Albus, Lily. Ginny, James…"


	19. Rehab

**A/N:** This one's for you Pottermum! Definitely different than my norm, as just a bit of fluff requested by a loyal reader/reviewer. I'm still scheming on another full story, but it might be a while with how much I have going on this summer with projects. Until then, enjoy!

 _ **Rehab**_

"Three more steps," Ginny encouraged, keeping a hand on either side of Harry. He was to the point that he could walk, so long as the ground was even. Any unsteady conditions would result in Harry losing his footing. They had been hiking while the kids were all home and he had to stop every quarter mile, urging everyone to go ahead and come back for him later. Of course they didn't, nor did they go as far as initially planned, finding a decent space for their picnic and turning around, taking a slower pace as Ginny took one side of Harry on the way back, James taking the other. Lily had fretted the rest of the night until Harry talked to her about how he just needed practice and he would be fine.

After they sent everyone off to school again, Harry met with a therapist who would be in charge of giving him approval before he could go back to work full time. Until then, Ron was working as the official head of the department, bringing case files to discuss with Harry most evenings and dropping hints about how George had been needling him lately about going to partner with him at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Harry grit his teeth during the last two steps, the spell that simulated rocky terrain releasing as his weight shifted more fully onto Ginny. She took it as she always did: without complaint and without any sign of the burden Harry knew had shifted onto her shoulders.

"I think you've earned lunch," Ginny said.

"How about we take it here," Harry suggested. His legs were useless under any conditions for several minutes after one of these exercises.

Ginny helped him to the couch and rubbed her hands together, heading to the kitchen as he picked up _The Daily Prophet_ , reading through an article detailing the latest on Updike's trial. His wife had made a plea for mercy on the verdict and Harry found he actually held some sympathy for her. She would be left to care for their two children on her own now. Not to mention what the oldest must be dealing with at school. It was about as much kindness Harry could drum up for Updike. He flipped the paper, continuing.

 _Though the Potters have been generally quiet in regards to the supposed adoption, public records show their guardianship of one Imogen Dahl, whose enrollment at Hogwarts was finalized by Headmistress McGonagall two weeks ago. Amid the silence on this matter, Mrs. Ginny Potter's voice was brought to the forefront in defense of her husband after a speculative article by Miss Rita Skeeter questioned whether or not Potter's involvement with the Australian situation was similar to Updike's or even an attempt to separate himself from an unwanted marriage (see p. 15 for the published rebuttal)._

The article continued, accounting for three or four other families who were affected before Harry and Ron's involvement in the portals, and the funeral details for the Unspeakable who had worked for Godfrey and committed suicide before authorities could take him in.

Harry turned pages, concentrating on each word of an open letter by Ginny, sent to both the press as well as the Ministry, according to the heading.

"We got some owls from the kids!" Ginny shouted from the kitchen.

Harry didn't reply. He read through Ginny's account of the days he went missing, of the department's summary of his involvement. It was short and simple, but poignant and certainly enough to put Skeeter to rest, though it would invoke her to find something else when the opportunity arose, he was sure. He hadn't even heard about Rita's article, which meant Ginny had managed to keep it from him somehow, all the while spending free time she didn't have—between writing as a correspondent and his rehabilitation—shutting the cow up and being the official family spokesperson for all of this. She had spared him the irritation without a thought.

"Harry, Imogen made friends with one of Luna's boys!" Ginny exclaimed, holding the letter precariously in one hand, with a tray balanced between the other and her forearm. "Lily said their final game is next Saturday."

Ginny set down the tray handed one of the already opened letters to Harry, breaking the seal on another. This one James's, based on the scribbled handwriting. They read over James's and Albus's accounts of getting back to school together. Ginny's smile was wide as she set down the letters and reached towards the food.

"Wait," Harry said, taking her wrists to stop her. She turned to him, eyes wide, brows raised. He could have been seventeen again, uncertain of what to say or do next. "Why didn't you tell me about Rita Skeeter's article?"

"Oh, that?" Ginny shrugged. "It was stupid. No reason to bring that up with everything else on your mind. Did someone show it to you?"

"It was referenced in today's paper," Harry said. "And… I saw your response."

Ginny let out a breath. "I know, I shouldn't have bothered, but I was so mad the paper would publish that rubbish, even under the gossip section."

Harry's grin grew. He could imagine her lips narrowed as her fingers flew across the keys on the typewriter, more articulate than Ginny ever was while calm and trying to write. He reached up, tucking the white strands of hair he was getting used to behind her ears. George had teased her for a good while when they got back to England and had dinner with the whole family. Harry couldn't think of a time before now that she had been more beautiful. He thought about the first few sentences of her response.

"What?" Ginny asked, tilting her head.

"You never told me about what happened right after," Harry said. "I thought about it a lot when I was there, but I never did ask. I had hoped you would go enjoy Peru."

"With you gone?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I knew you wanted to go."

"No, I wanted to go with you," Ginny said. "I wanted to go with our family. All our family."

"What did happen?" Harry asked.

Ginny let out a sigh and Harry moved into the corner where the arm met the back of the couch, leaving a nook for Ginny to sit with his arm around her. Ginny settled in, resting her head against his shoulder as Harry put his feet up and she started. She recounted the evening Ron came to tell her. Harry interjected that he knew Ron would take that responsibility. She talked about going to her family's and how the kids would sneak into bed with her. Ron and Hermione left for their own holiday still, though Ginny said she was certain they'd shortened it, and how Rose and Hugo seemed to keep Lily and Albus in better spirits than they might have been.

"And work let you off?" Harry asked.

"Full stop, yeah," Ginny said. "I told everyone else I was meeting up for assignments after your owl got to me and I went to talk to Malfoy."

"What all did he know?"

"Nothing, really. His father had turned Godfrey away."

Harry had figured that much not long after details came together. "How did you figure out Australia?"

"Malfoy," Ginny said. "He had a business card from Godfrey at least. It wasn't much, but it was a start. I worked again a bit at the start of the season once I knew it would take longer than expected and Updike was still taking interest in my whereabouts. Beth let me write the easy articles."

"You didn't want to take more time off with everything?"

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head. Harry wrapped an arm across her chest and she reached up, holding to his forearm. "Beth will be a lot less patient now that you're back. She was nice about the first actual assignment a couple weeks ago, but we both know that won't last forever."

They had gone to that first game together. Ginny had made sure they had a private box, which Harry knew wasn't her favorite way to watch the game. She had done it because they were both tired of being bothered about Australia.

"So you and Charlie went out there together?"

"No," Ginny said.

It didn't matter that months had passed and they were safe at home now, the worry he would have felt had he known surfaced, pushing a lump in his throat. He gave a humoring grin as she mentioned Charlie tracking her by her old locket, and how the two had worked together. This seemed to trigger a more full account of meeting Taylor, deciding to bring James with her, and the lessons they taught Taylor and the others. Every time she mentioned Fritz, Ginny's voice went a little soft, the same way it did with Fred's name.

"I kept hoping Pe—" Ginny stopped before saying the name. Peter.

Harry had heard the least about him, and he wasn't sorry for the fact. He'd gotten a better idea of what had happened with the man from Charlie, not wanting to ask Ginny, unsure of what she would actually say. Charlie was straightforward and factual while telling Harry, but Harry never asked questions beyond what Charlie volunteered.

"Kept hoping Peter what?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"I kept hoping he would come back with any real information about you," Ginny said. "I had the clock, but I wanted to know you were safe. Or that we could get to you."

Ginny's fingers trailed back and forth across Harry's skin.

"And you weren't tempted?" Harry asked, half joking, though even he could hear the nervous undertone to the question. Ginny scoffed and moved to sit up. For all the loss in his leg strength, Harry was able to hold her to him easily. "After how I had been putting you off… I just…"

Silence hung between them as Ginny turned, sympathetic eyes meeting his. She moved, adjusting herself and placing her hands on Harry's cheeks. She ran her thumbs back and forth, leaning in and taking his lips in hers. She had kissed him hundreds of times since he came back, each one special, each one full of intent and earnest feeling. Harry matched her lips, holding her waist tighter as she pulled back, their noses still touching side to side.

"I have loved you more than I thought I could love anyone," Ginny whispered. "I went halfway across the world to find you, and I would have gone halfway across the universe, if it meant keeping you, Harry. So, no, I wasn't tempted. Not for a moment."

Harry wrapped a hand around her neck, pulling Ginny in for another long, passionate kiss. His fingers wrapped into her hair and Ginny's hands dropped to his chest. They continued for several minutes and Ginny pressed her lips together for a moment when she pulled back, holding back a smile.

"If you have this much energy, I think we should probably get you walking again," Ginny said.

Harry groaned and she laughed, sitting back and handing him a plate with a sandwich instead. They read through the owls again and Harry said he would be sure to write a response so they would be ready to send soon just before Ginny pulled out her wand to create an obstacle for Harry to tackle. She reached out her hand, helping him stand and he pulled her in by the waist before they could begin.

"I'll make arrangements for Peru this summer," Harry said. "You decide the dates and I will put it on the department calendar straight away."

Ginny stood on her toes and kissed Harry gently. "Let's get you in shape to climb Machu Picchu then, shall we?"


End file.
